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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: Pol-e 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 in same house as us - whose young son owned a houseware 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.

At the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, my father sat next to us and we watched the movie together, although he was not interested in watching TV or movies. 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.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when someone knocked on our door. At the same time as the door was knocked on, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali? Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were 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 until morning for him to return, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives, and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid as we waited for my father's return. It was time for 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 (grandson of my father's uncle), and Mohammad Nabi (son of my uncle), as well as 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." It was as if he 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 nights and days of Eid passed as we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Karmal's leadership, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad, and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers, sisters, and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come back. In the same way, my elder uncle had two 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, bitter days, and long years for their husbands. They 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 was over and our hope had collapsed. All the family members were crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of my uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victims in Pul-e Charkhi. 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 their last words to each other were.

After we learned what had 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."

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, Bamiyan Province

The name of the victims: Abdullah, my father, aged 45-47 years old. 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 educated from mullahs at home, he could only read the Quran. Abdul Karim had attended Dehsur high school until the eighth grade. Due to riots and wars, he had left school. Both of them were married. My father had three sons: his eldest son is me, his second son is named Samad, and his third son is named Nader. My father had three daughters: his eldest daughter is named Hanifa, his second daughter is Sima, and his third is Soghara. My uncle Karim 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 farmers and all lived in Dehne Kanak.

It was 2001 that the Taliban came and took Yakawlang. 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. The Taliban were defeated there and came to Dahan Kanak again. They brought my father and uncle back to the village, tied them back to back under the road, and fired on them, killing them.

When Taliban arrested my father, we fled to Punjab having no news about my father. People told me that my father was killed. Although it was dangerous to go to the area, we went and took the corpses of three martyrs with a small number of friends. We could not bury them in our ancestral cemetery, so we took him to Sar-e Kanak graveyard.

During the migration period, people were vigilant as to what was happening in Yakawlang. The houses and shops were burnt down and many people were killed.

My father's body remained under the sunshine [where he was killed] for a week; no one could go and bury him. When Taliban attacked Yakawlang, my father told me to take our family members to Panjab District. He said he would come after us. He stayed because of our livestock up in Qeshlaq. We could only save our lives, not the livestock. Unfortunately, we lost our father and every other thing we had in the village.

According to my cousin, four days after we left our village, my father was killed. As said, me, my younger brother Samad, and my cousin Mohammad Rahim went from Punjab to Sarma Qol during the night. At night, we took five more corpses from Sarma Qol. We went and transferred the bodies to Sar-e Kanak. The people of Sar-e Kanak cooperated with us. Thanks to them, may God protect them. With them, we buried the corpses.

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 went back home, but nothing remained; our houses were burnt. With empty hands, we started to rebuild our houses.

Everyone had psychological problems. 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 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 as it is still my responsibility to take care of the two families.

Today, my uncle's family is living separately. We divided our land; I separated my uncle's land. By the grace of God, our agriculture product is good, not bad. I ended up having a lot of trouble because at that time, people did not trust anyone. Now, it is different. If needed, people will give us a loan. At that time, no one gave a single rupee to anyone else. Why could we not borrow some money? People used to say that the situation in Afghanistan is so bad, they may not be able to pay it back.

We had this difficult situation. I couldn't bear not to say it. It is very difficult for someone to say it. Those who had a better economic situation 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 was burnt. They had holes drilled in it. It was completely destroyed. It was out of use. My mother has endured this situation until today, and today, thanks to the grace of God, our situation is good.

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 the 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.

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. My friends told me that I should come back. I had a bad feeling, because my uncle's family was here in Panjab. As soon as he sent the message to "come once," I fell from the sky to the ground. I said what happened and he asked me again.

I went to Yakawlang again, 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 was good but that they would go with me. They told me that my uncle had been captured. Well, we went. 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 my uncle, taken him from my village, and killed my uncle on a pass named Larasi. They said, "Go and take your martyr from there." The people of Sangardost - one of the local Taliban - gave us a soldier to guide us there. He showed us that my uncle's corpse had dried up. We took it to Dahan Kanak and buried him there. Ah, I wish they would had killed him [only], but they had 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 or what they were doing. We had no idea, they just said that the Taliban had come and killed people. Because we were children, we didn't feel, we didn't understand what "the Taliban" meant. We thought that Talib meant "student," not more than that, right? But when they came and set fire to the houses and killed the people, we thought that a human had not come, a savage had come. What were they doing to the innocent people? With the houses? No one had anything to do with the houses, but they destroyed and burned every single house.

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

I put myself in the place of my father; I left school, I sacrificed my wishes and wants for my brothers and my uncle's children. I supported my brothers and my uncle’s children to go to school. Thank 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 at me as his younger son, never used a bad word against me. 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 and didn’t think about life’s ups and downs. Everything was on his shoulders. I don't know where he earned the livelihood to earn what he would give us, the food we would eat, and the clothes we would wear. 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.

There is nothing notable left from my father to put in the Afghanistan Memory and Dialogue Center. My father had a Quran and a watch. I have his watch with me now in my pocket and a tape recorder named 530, an 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 such a hard time in the past that I cried. We really have a very bitter past, not only for me, but for all the victims. For all the people of Yakawlang, Bamiyan 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 and take them to higher levels. Thank you.

He 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. I work at customs at the port of Islam Qala. I get 100-200 AFN per day.

Nabi was my uncle. He was 31-years-old. He was martyred in 2014. He was a de-miner. He normally left at four o'clock in the morning and came back at two o'clock in the afternoon. One morning, while going to the demining site, he and his colleagues were ambushed by the Taliban. It was seven o'clock when they fired on them. He and his 5 colleagues were killed while others were taken alive, though they may have been killed later.

He was an employee of a de-mining agency. They were going to explore the land. They would find mines and mark them, then report the location to an engineer, then the team would going to the site and explode the mine.

We got the news at eight o'clock and went there at nine. The driver 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 and brought it back to the house. I went there. Two of our uncles also came. They live in Kamanah, their families live there. My uncle’s economic condition is good, but not that good. He has two children, one is five-years-old and the other one is two-years-old.

The demining agency has given food and non-food commodities to my uncle’s family. His wife is young, about 20-years-old, and has two children. She lives with her two children. One of her 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 up. Several others had been killed there. The corpses were in different places. One in the car, one next to the car, etc. Among them, my uncle was shot dead. Many didn't even look hurt. We went there and took him into 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 had been after the director of the demining agency, and 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 people were earning a living through this job, he used to get 15,000 AFN 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 for him, for his children, for his family. My uncle was very kind to us. He used to advise us to do good things, respect the elders and children, and get an education. I told him that I can’t go to school, I have to work because my father was killed on 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 documents.

Now, thank God, it's fine. We work. My mother is with us. 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. 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.

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: Pol-e 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 in same house as us - whose young son owned a houseware 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.

At the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, my father sat next to us and we watched the movie together, although he was not interested in watching TV or movies. 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.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when someone knocked on our door. At the same time as the door was knocked on, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali? Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were 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 until morning for him to return, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives, and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid as we waited for my father's return. It was time for 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 (grandson of my father's uncle), and Mohammad Nabi (son of my uncle), as well as 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." It was as if he 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 nights and days of Eid passed as we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Karmal's leadership, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad, and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers, sisters, and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come back. In the same way, my elder uncle had two 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, bitter days, and long years for their husbands. They 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 was over and our hope had collapsed. All the family members were crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of my uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victims in Pul-e Charkhi. 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 their last words to each other were.

After we learned what had 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."

They Were Shot in Their Chests

Narrator: Asadullah Fayzi

Victim: Baqijan Fayzi

Time of the incident: 1997

The place of the incident: Qorachin Village, Chaharbulak District, Mazar-e-Sharif

Type of incident: Gunshot

My father's name was Baqijan Fayzi. He was almost 38-years-old. He was young at the time of the accident. He had married when he was so young. I was about four or five years old when he died; I was very small. One day, I was standing at the courtyard door. I noticed that as he walked down the alley with another person, a hat was on his head, although he normally didn't wear a hat. I didn't recognize him. I said, "Hey! Hey! Who are you?" He was ahead of me. When he looked, I saw that he was my father. He smiled at me. This was very interesting to me.

My father's birthplace is Qorachin Village, Chaharbolak District, Balkh Province. As a farmer, he was busy with agriculture and peasantry.

He studied in school up to the six and seventh grades, but he had not finished school. He had two children, one girl and one boy. I was older than my sister. I am now 24-years-old. My sister, Fatima, is two years younger than me, she is twenty-two-years-old. She has finished her studies and now she is a schoolteacher. She has also studied up to the fourteenth grade.

The attack happened near our village named Qizilqala. It was Taliban’s last attack, after which the Taliban fell. I think it was 1996 or 1997.

The incident was in the morning, it was eight or nine o'clock. The Taliban came to our village and gathered the people of the village in the mosque. My father told us that he should go too. They took my father and my uncle. After three days, both of them were martyred in Qazal Qala Village as I mentioned. They were serving the people in the village. They were the elders of the village. Taliban killed them anyway. Taliban committed genocide in their first round of attack. They killed so many people in their first attack.

His family started looking for him but did not find him. In the village, someone has seen these two people who had been killed, so they told their families. My cousins, though they were small, had run away from home. They had hide in a plain. My father had told me not to go to the mosque because he was worried that I would be taken by the Taliban, but I said, "No, let them take me too." I was not afraid.

They took them that morning. I remember my father's uncle, who was an elderly person. Taliban tied his hands behind his back and carried him towards the mosque. I did not go to the mosque myself because I was small. When they were taken away, the women were crying. My grandmother was there, my mother was there, but the Taliban did not release anyone.

It was rumored that the people were tied up in a car, dragged, and later shot with bullets. The people who were from our village said so; they had seen it. There were no other witnesses except for them. They had tied my father to a car and dragged him to Qizilqala, a neighboring village. It is relatively far; half an hour away. My father's body was found by the local people. They informed us that they had found two bodies and asked if they were ours. They told me to tell someone to come and take the bodies. My uncle went to the site and recognized the corpses, so he brought them back.

They were taken and thrown in a desert. The day after they were taken, my uncle started asking about them. Where are they? Are they detained? Are they alive? Later, some people informed us that there were two bodies in the desert. My uncle went there and yes, found their bodies. They had been shot in their chests and shoulders. Their faces were destroyed. There were many wounds and scratches on their bodies. My uncle's son’s forehead was badly split. The Taliban had beaten them a lot.

Upon hearing the news, everyone was unwell. My uncle fell unconscious for a few hours out of shock. My father's death changed our lives a lot. We faced many problems. We went through a lot of hardships. Life is really hard without a father. After my father, my uncle and my mother tried to keep the family together. My mother is a seamstress, she has been sewing ever since. The Taliban will do anything for their own benefit.

They don't have much to do with other ethnicities. Charbulok Village is resided by different ethnicities, it is mixed, but they used to harass Hazara people there a lot. They asked them for bread, money, weapons. They used to say to my father, "You are the leader of the Hazara people, you have many weapons. Give us weapons." How many weapons did they give if they had them? The Taliban would come again and search themselves. Because of having [and not having] weapons, they were beaten a lot.

Yes, the responsibility of financing the house was on my father's shoulders. My grandfather was there and my uncle was there. My grandfather was an elderly man. My father was responsible to support the household financially. We all lived in the same house together. Yes, my aunt was there too. Her and her husband lived together with us. The number of family members was big, about twenty, twenty-five people in total. Now there are 9 of us. After my father, my uncles and my mother now support the family. We still live in the same house in our village. That is our own house.

Oh, I was badly affected by the incident. I got a low spirit after it. This made me personally very weak. My mother... my mother suffered a lot, for a long time she was... For now, life is good. It is normal. It's been two years that I'm married and other family members were separated from us. My uncle and his family are now in Mazar Sharif. My cousins (my mother’s brothers) are here. They are almost at the same place as us; our houses are side-by-side.

Currently, there is no war in our village. Because our village is close to Chaharbulak District - just twenty minutes away - Taliban come to our village but don’t go further. Taliban often attack from this side and the government shoots them back. A month ago, Taliban took all other villages. Only our village was left. In our village, there was a government base, but they left after the other villages were captured. Taliban come periodically, once or twice a week, and the government does not.

Although the government is close (we can see them from the village), they don't fight as much as they did in the past and don’t come to our village. Taliban take tithes and zakat from local people. Tithes is about wheat. From ten bushels of wheat, they will take one bushel. From twenty bushels, they will take two bushels. Everyone gives. If someone doesn't give, he will be punished. Taliban announced that people must wait for them to come and count the bushels of their harvest, so that the Taliban can take some right away.

Yes, there are schools. Girls go to school. The school is in our village. The girls are up to 9th grade. They say their teachers should be women. Girls were not going to school for a while when Taliban came; the schools were off for a few days. After that, school resumed.

There were many people who left their jobs in government offices due to fear of the Taliban in this district. Even the cleaners left their duties due to fear. They didn't go to the office anymore. There were a few more soldiers from our own village, they were scared because there have been so many fights. Many people were killed in the war. Soldiers managed to take a letter from the Taliban, it was a guarantee that they would not be soldiers anymore, they could go and work in their village. Although they are no longer soldiers, they could not come to their village to see their families.

There were national police present to ensure the security of Qora Chin Village. In addition to police, there were militia (called ARBAKI: local armed men) supported by the government. Arbakis were harassing people and stealing people’s property. I didn't see it myself, but people of the village say so. They have many stories. According to one story, people stopped a man on his motorcycle one night. While their faces were covered, they took away all his valuables. The Taliban is back; Arbakis don't do those things. Arbakis are also completely gone, our area has been completely cleared. It is only the district center, which is under the control of the government.

The Taliban are from the neighbouring villages. Some are from our village too. Local Talib accompany the outsiders, they are together. No, they don't harass civilians.

Our wish is peace. Since the government is there in the center, they don't want war either. Their people and many of their soldiers were martyred, they were killed. Other police bases were taken by the Taliban.

If the government fights with the Taliban, it is good to clean up our areas. Make it peaceful and calm, so that everyone can do their jobs and go to school. Our biggest wish is that there will be peace and prosperity for our homeland. Many people in Chaharbulak are complaining about the insecurity. They are tired of it. One day, people should be able to take care of their business and land properly. My father was a good-natured person. Even now, everyone who comes praises my father a lot. No, my grandmother has passed away. We buried my father in a cemetery near the village, yes, in the village of Qorah Chin.

His Body was Swollen

Narrator: Azadeh Sadat Hussaini (Daughter)

Victim: Fatima

Time of the incident: 08 August 1999

Place of the accident: Mazar-e-Sharif, Pole Merab Type of accident: Hit by shrapnel

My name is Azadeh. My mother was married several years after my father. Now my ID card is in my stepfather's name. I am Azadeh Seyyed Salman in the ID and my real father's name is Seyed Shah Mohammad. His surname is Sadat Hosseini. The victim is my mother, her name is Fatima. Fatima Seyed Nasro, her name on her NID. Surname? No, she did not have a surname.

She was killed in Pole Merab by shrapnel while fleeing in the plain. They were running towards the Charkent which is above from here. The area is mountainous. We buried her in Pole Merab. When the Taliban came in the first round and took the whole city, they stayed for a few years. It was June or July. The wheat had grown. People were running away to the Charkent out of fear. Many were hiding in the wheat which saved their lives.

Shima: There was no wheat on our side. I remember a day when the weather was very hot, many people died when they fled to the mountains.

Azadeh: What exactly happened, what happened? I don't remember much. I was married. People said that she had so many splinters in her armpit that she never recovered. My mother was 55-years-old. When she came home, she could not speak. Later, she told the story that she was running away: "While I was riding a donkey, I suddenly got some sharp objects in my body. I didn't understand where they came from. My body only felt burning and blood flowed. If I wasn't riding that donkey, maybe the shrapnel wouldn't have hit me." The iron pieces had not gone deep. Some were pulled out by hand. But there was no doctor in the Charkent. The wounds became infected and after four months, she was brought to Mazar City. We took her to a doctor, but it didn't work at all. She was scared.

We live in Pole Merab. When the Taliban came, most of the people of the city fled. But we didn't go. My husband did not go. Everyone fled to Charkent. The city was empty. People stayed there for a while until the city calmed down. Some came early, those who had problems came early, those who didn't have problems stayed even for a year. When it was completely calm, everyone returned to their homes and lives.

Mentally, one feels a lot of pain and suffering. When my mother passed away, her house and life fell apart. My father left one way, my sister went her way, she was single, but she got married unintentionally. We don't know where she is anymore. My poor father was sick, often he came to my house. I had no place for him and I was pregnant. What did I do? I found a wife for him. Yes, now he has gone back to his house and has a wife. He has many children from this wife. Well, that's how it happened, no one of us... no one left of my family. I have a sister, she was in Iran. It's been a few years since she has come. She was also not there. It was really hard for me, I was completely alone...

Taliban took [my husband], took him from the market, took him away, we were completely disappointed. Because when Talib took anyone, he never came back. But God helped, of course he had to live for a while in this world. He came back. When he came, I couldn't recognize him at all. His body was totally black; he didn't have a single white spot because he was beaten. His body was swollen. He was sleeping in front of the window and everyone who saw him was afraid. I sat one night until the morning. I dressed his severely injured body. I gave him medicine. He was moaning and could not sleep. This situation continued for several days. But when the Taliban were defeated, our neighbours said that he should not sit there like that. If the Taliban came again and saw him in that state, they would question what he did to be beaten so badly.

After that, they took him to the village. For a month, I was with my daughter, the same daughter who is here. I was alone in the house with a woman who was a neighbour. We have seen many bad days, no expenses, nothing... To survive, I had to sell the houseware to buy food items. Nothing was left for us, nothing. My poor husband became disabled. He can't work. Heavy work hurts his back. Many of us have seen bad days. It was very difficult for me. My poor husband had never used a weapon. He was a laborer and ordinary citizen. The people who had guns, power, and money went away way before Taliban came. We the poor were trampled.

I don't remember anything. He came home late at night on the same day they took him. He used to say that he couldn't come home on my foot; he walked from the city to the house like a child using his hands and knees. His knees were swollen. He said that Taliban made me sleep, one of them stood on his feet, one of them put his foot on his back, and one of them put his foot on his neck. They hit him three times with a big cable with three locks tied at the end of it. They said to give them weapons. He said he doesn't have a weapon. They said to give them a weapon soon. Helpless, he is now disabled and can no longer work.

If he finds light work, he will do it, but he cannot do heavy work. He was beaten savagely. Taliban's takeover ended up very difficult for ordinary people. No one has good memories of that time, they all have bad memories.

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: Pol-e 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 in same house as us - whose young son owned a houseware 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.

At the insistence of my uncle and my uncle’s son, my father sat next to us and we watched the movie together, although he was not interested in watching TV or movies. 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.

It was late at night and my father was about to sleep when someone knocked on our door. At the same time as the door was knocked on, someone shouted loudly, "Who is Haji Abdul Ali? Come out of your room and open the gate." Some armed people were 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 until morning for him to return, but he did not return that night.

On the day of Eid, all the family members, relatives, and friends gathered together to celebrate Eid as we waited for my father's return. It was time for 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 (grandson of my father's uncle), and Mohammad Nabi (son of my uncle), as well as 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." It was as if he 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 nights and days of Eid passed as we waited for my father and uncles to return. During the time of Babrak Karmal's leadership, Muhammad Nabi, Ali Ahmad, and Ghulam Abbas were released in general amnesty. But the others never came back. My brothers, sisters, and my uncle's children and I were nine in total, all small children a year apart in age. We used to ask our mothers every day why my father and uncles didn't come back. In the same way, my elder uncle had two 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, bitter days, and long years for their husbands. They 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 was over and our hope had collapsed. All the family members were crying.

One day, we went with a number of friends and one of my uncle's sons to the hill of Polygon’s victims in Pul-e Charkhi. 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 their last words to each other were.

After we learned what had 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."

A Shrapnel Caused His Death

This story was recorded on April 29, 2019 in the local office of the AIHRC in Herat Province. Ms Dasta-Gul describes the story of grief, love, and the years after the loss of her husband with patience and in detail.

Narrator: Dasta-Gul (victim’s wife)

Victim’s name: Qurban (30 yrs)

Date of Accident: Summer of 1984, 11:00 oclock

Place of Accident: Kareezkhoni Village, Rubat Sangi District, Herat Province

Type of accident: bomb shrapnel (bombed by Soviet aircrafts)

My name is Dasta-Gul and Qurban was my husband. It has been 35 years since my home was wrecked. He was thirty-years-old and I was twenty-years-old in 1989. It was July, yes, it was the proper time of the year for farming. The Soviets killed him; their bomb killed him. The Soviet aircraft killed him. He was killed in Kareezkhoni Village, part of Rubat Sangi District. It was eleven in the morning. We were married for seven years; he was killed in the eighth year. We had two children, one aged 2 and the other a 9-month-old breastfeeding infant. Yes, two children. We had two children and both are sons. We were married for just 7 years.

He was a farmer and used to raise livestock. He harvested wheat and oats. Agriculture was his only profession. He had gone over to harvest wheat from the fields when an aircraft dropped a bomb. He died among the wheat crops. A lot of people, around nine or ten, were killed. In that village, around a hundred or more people were killed. The tanks and aircraft killed all of them in that village. They were all working in their fields. Those villagers who were inside their houses were also bombarded and got buried under the rubble, poor souls. Our house was far [from the houses which were bombed].

A member of my family informed us that a person has been killed in the fields, and asked us to collect the corpse [and nine other martyrs] and take them to the mosque. Yes, I saw him. The shrapnel had entered the back of his head and exited from his abdomen. That one shrapnel caused his death. I did not have anything after my husband’s death. Out of destitution, I turned to carpet weaving. Until my children turned ten years old, I was busy weaving day and night. No one helped me. No one cared for us. They did not care that my orphaned children were hungry and alone with me, who owned nothing.

Yes, the fields on which my husband grew wheat belonged to us. They [Qurban’s family] gave a plot of land to my orphaned children. My children had uncles, a grandmother, and aunts. I asked them to give only two acres of the land on which my husband worked to my boys. I worked hard by myself. I wove carpets, and went from one to the other to make ends meet. I did not have any other assistance.

I sent my boys to school. After they finished school, we came to Herat City for them to go to university. Ah, after my eldest son did not learn in university, I sent him to Iran as a laborer. My eldest son is named Nur-Ul Deen, and the youngest is named Saif-Ul Deen. They went to Iran and worked hard. They also got married from their hard work. They did not have sisters who could be married off and from their marriage’s gifts, I could have taken wives for my sons and settled them down. My poor boys worked hard and built lives for themselves. I used to live with my in-laws but they did not like me. They would always argue and tell me to give up my sons and re-marry. I told them I will not marry and even if it kills me, I will not give up my children. What can a second marriage give me when I did not gain anything from my first marriage? The marriage life which I had was one where my husband never once told me what to do or not do. God took him from me, his death came soon.

During the seven years of us being married, he never once told me to do or not to do this or that. That is because I was content with him, and until today, I have stayed in his memory and for his sons. When you are content with your spouse, even after they are gone, your heart does not allow you to think of someone else or to leave their children. My brother-in-law would bring a bag of wheat and rice. My parents also helped and asked me to bring my children to live with them. My conscious could not accept this so I worked and wove rugs by myself. I never folded the carpet loom close; it was always open as I constantly worked on weaving rugs. It was like whenever I finished one rug, I would start another the very next day. What else could I have done, I was hungry and poor, I had no other choice. I had to do it in order to make ends meet and survive absolute poverty because I had no other source of income. The situation at that time was not good, but I do not know why they bombed our village. However, the [neighbouring] village was bombed heavily. They bombed that village a lot. My husband was also killed there but I do not understand exactly the reason why they bombed. It has been thirty years since and my mind has gotten weak as well as my memory and I no longer remember why they killed our village’s people.

When my home was ruined after my husband’s death, I was twenty-years-old. I was married off at the age of fourteen. I was married for 7 years when my husband died. It has been whether eighteen or twenty years, what is the sum of seven years and fourteen years? It has been twenty years, twenty. My husband was from outside my family, I was happy with him that is why I have remained unmarried until this day in his memory. I loved him, do you understand? When you love a person, even if there are hundreds of others around you, your feelings for them will not change. This is why I did not accept anything else after him. By God, he did not have anything. My carpet was the earth underneath and my roof was the sky. I just loved him and I loved my sons. He had a good personality and a muscular figure. He was very lucky meaning when he was in a group gathering, he could make everyone laugh till tears would come out of their eyes due to his good humor and manners. But what can I do now that God has taken him from me?

When my [eldest] son was in Iran, he studied till eleventh grade and after he came back to Afghanistan, he finished his last year of high school. However, I do not know what major he studied at university. I did not ask, my dear, I did not ask him. He studies half of the day and the other half he works as a watchman for a school. He sweeps classroom floors and arranges the desks and chairs. He also has the keys to the school, as if he is the watchman of the elementary school. He gets five or six thousand Afghanis per month. My second son is also married. Thankfully, he is also married. I have three grandchildren from one son, and four from the other. I live with the two of my daughters-in-law in Wahdat Village, in the town of Abulwaleed which is part of the Injeel District of Herat Province. I am satisfied with my sons, thankfully. My sons have never ill-treated me. They say ‘dear mother’ at the beginning of their sentence and one at the end of their sentence. Their wives are not from our family so naturally, they might act irritated or say something to me, but when my sons treat me well, I have nothing to do with my daughters-in-law because my sons are important to me. Yes, my sons have a lot of respect for me; they respect me a lot. When I get sick, they borrow money for my medications and doctor’s visits so that I get treated. They borrow money from others so that their mother can get better. I have such dear sons and my heart is happy from them. One of my grandchildren passed last year and that broke my heart. He was only eleven-years-old. They said he had an incurable illness. They said he had cancer and his lungs had been destroyed. We took him to Kabul and brought his body back to Herat. He was only eleven-years-old and in fourth grade.

I am happy with my sons, my dear. My sons also love me a lot. I pleaded to God that my sons do not have a father, what would become of them? They could become addicts and junkies; they could become gamblers. However, thank God, they grew up to become really modest and decent men. My children are virtuous and chaste; they do not have any addictions, thankfully. My boys do not have any faults, they are clean and virtuous. I am thankful to God that I have good sons, they are decent people. I shall share the ache of my heart with the women of Afghanistan. I shall say how much I suffered and went through to raise my boys. I pray to God that my efforts do not go in vain and make my decent sons even more decent to people. And if they are friends, make them even better friends to others. I only want to say that. Some women ask me how my sons are and I respond that thank God, my life is completely good. I am not unhappy with my sons or their wives. Thank God, they are very nice. I have a very good life. My relatives ask how I manage with my sons and I tell them that my life, in general, is good and that I am completely content with my sons. They turned out to be decent people, they are humane. They do not bother people. On their university campus, there are around two thousand girls and boys studying, but they do not bother them or the girls there. They are such strong-willed sons.

Yes, I love my sons a lot, how can I not love them? For them, I have gotten beaten, verbally abused, and even been charmed with a talisman so I could leave my boys. They cast a magic charm on me so I would leave my sons and go back to my father’s house. By God that I am telling the truth, my dear. I went to a Hajji and he told me that I have been charmed to leave my sons and re-marry. By God, they did everything they could to me so I would leave my sons but God made my love for them so strong that nothing could separate us.

My daughters-in-law are unemployed. When we were in the village, they used to weave carpet a bit but after coming to Herat City, they no longer work as there is no work here. No one buys handmade rugs anymore. My daughters-in-law are busy with house chores and with taking care of their children. Their husbands (Dastagul’s sons) make ends meet now. I tell them that I was able to bring up two orphaned boys through carpet weaving, why do you not work? They tell me that I had the willpower and courage to do that, they do not have that. Ah! [Laughing] They tell me I had a lot of courage to do that; that I had a lot of vitamins and in comparison, put their vitamins in shame. [Laughing] They do not wish to work and cannot work. Yes, I told them I got weak because of work, my eyes lost their power, and my hands and feet don’t work anymore. I have gotten weak from all that work and now, it is on my sons’ shoulders to bring food. I can no longer work. There is a dent in my hand where I held scissors while weaving carpets. My hand has gone limp now because I would constantly work on the carpet loom and my eyes have gotten weak.

My sons tell me, “Mother! Even if we take you to Mecca [for pilgrimage], we cannot repay you even for one night of you taking care of us.” This is life. I suffered a lot, got beaten up, received verbal abuse, and heard all kinds of things. I would tremble day and night like an animal getting slaughtered for fear that someone would take my sons away from me. I suffered all kinds of pain. My sons would know my value after all. Now that they have grown up, I tell them about my suffering. They tell me that they could not have done anything because they were young and did not understand. Some mothers who raised their orphaned children were kicked out of the homes by their sons. Meaning, they kicked out their poor mother. There are children like this. There are children like this in our village.

Still, I thank God that my sons are decent men. Who knows if I will live ten more years or not? Only God knows. My youngest son says, “Mother! Do not fret. Do not worry too much. Mother! Your presence is a blessing to us. You are our hope. Your shadow over us is a blessing.” But I tell them that now that have wives and their own families, forget about my shadow over them. My sons tell me, “No, your shadow and presence are a blessing to us.” My boys did not have a father so they only had their mother, they received love only from their mother. Only we know a mother’s pain. For their peace of mind, I tell them that, God willing, I shall remain like a cloud that provides shade to you. I am very much pleased with my sons. They ask me about their father like how he looked, his height, and his figure. And no ease their minds, I tell them that their father looked like their uncles. They look at their father’s photos and constantly ask about his height and face. They tell me, “Mother, if our father were alive, God knows how much better our lives would have been.” For their comfort, I tell them their father was not the only one who was martyred. There are thousands of other orphaned children who grew up in similar circumstances without their fathers. I tell them that their father’s life was that long. Yes, sometimes they ask me about their father all day, twenty-four hours. They love their father so much that when my youngest son went to Iran, he took his father’s photo to make a bigger print and frame it. They always miss their father. Still, to ease their pain, I tell them that that person does not have a father and this person lost their father in an accident so that they do not suffer too much because of their father’s absence. Their hearts find comfort in that and they share their pain with me.

No statement

He Died from Attack Helicopter Bullets

Husniya Khademi is a housewife and is the third narrator of this incident. She is narrating from her mother’s perspective. This story tells of the massacre in Bamiyan during the Soviet occupation. Many lost their lives at that time and bodies were buried in mass graves.

Narrator: Husniya Khademi (granddaughter of a sibling)

Victim: Reza Bakhsh Zawar (43-years-old)

Place of incident: Shahidan, Bamiyan Province

Date of incident: 1979

In spring of 1979, the Soviet soldiers shot him to death in the Shahidan area of Bamiyan Province. Reza Bakhsh Zawar was born in Norka Village, Sia Dara area of Bamiyan Province. During the years of the Soviet attacks, my mother’s uncle went to Shahidan area to look after his nephew. As a result of the rounds of fire by Soviet attack helicopters on the people of Shahidan area, he, along with forty other people, were killed. One bullet hit his head and the other hit his chest. The dead bodies remained on the ground for several days until the Soviet attacks calmed down, after which the people gathered to bury all the bodies in a mass grave without any graveclothes.

My mother’s uncle (Reza Bakhsh Zawar) was a farmer. He was married with a daughter and a son. His parents had died previously and he did not have any siblings. His body was left where he had died for a week. His wife did not know about his death, but after my father went to that area and came back, he informed her. His wife left the village one month after his death. Their house, which my uncle is taking care of, is still there to this day. The widow was the breadwinner of the family and they migrated to Iran where she worked to support two of her children. Afterward, her son broke his leg in a traffic accident and he can no longer work. Also, my mother’s aunt, who had cancer, went to Iran but passed away in the spring of 2019. She left behind two sons and two daughters.

The life of Reza Bakhsh Zawar’s widow was good in Iran at the beginning, but her son’s (Asad) traffic accident has caused a toll on them. The victim’s widow passed away last year in Iran, and her daughter also passed away this year. Asad is married and has one daughter. He is forced to provide for her despite his physical disadvantage.

We Still Have Father’s Bullet-Torn Blanket

Jaweda is a student at Bamiyan University. She is sharing the story of losing her father based on how her mother had narrated it to her. She retells the story of hardship that her mother experienced after she lost her husband.

Narrator: Jaweda (victim’s daughter)

Victim: Sayed Mohammad Alam Hussaini

Date of incident: 1998

Place of incident: Bamiyan

His name was Sayed Mohammad Alam Hussaini and he was 23 or 25-years-old. Yes, he was very young. He died on the year as I was born, in 1998. His place of birth and residence was Bamiyan Province and he belonged to the Bedmishkeen area of Yakaolang District. He had studied only until second or third grade. Due to some problems, he was not able to continue his education. He was a farmer by occupation but in his free time, he usually read books and could write as well. After my father’s death, we migrated to Iran for three years. My father died on December 30.

When we migrated to Iran, we did not take any of his belongings or writings with us. After we came back, none of his possessions were there either. I do not have any brothers. It is just my mother and three of my sisters. We did not have anyone to help us so we had no other choice but to leave for Iran. That is why we do not have any of my father’s possessions that I could bring here today with me. There is only one blanket left. When the fighting happened, [my father sent] all of us to the mountains to flee from danger. My mother, three sisters, and I were in the mountains when my father had gone to bring a blanket to keep us warm. It was winter so it was cold. He was moving toward the mountain with the blanket when he was shot at. The bullet struck his back and left a hole through the blanket. I have brought the torn blanket with me today. After going to and coming back from Iran, we no longer had my father’s personal items with us. He had many diaries filled with his writings but he did not have anyone else here to preserve them. He only had us but we had left to Iran at that time.

It is mountainous here and he was struck with a bullet while he was walking towards the mountain. My grandfather and cousins brought us and my father back from the mountain. Afterward, I think my father was alive for one more day because there were no hospitals back then advanced enough to treat a bullet wound like that. Yes, they did not exist back then. After one day, my father passed away in our home in Bedmishkeen area. They [grandfather and cousins] had brought him back home since if he had been shot in his abdomen, he could not be saved. They did not take him to the hospital. He was alive for one day before passing away. Only the families of my cousin and mine went to the mountain, but there was another woman from Bedmishkeen coming toward the mountain with my father. However, she survived and is still alive today. Only my father was lost. We did not stay in the mountain after that. Only my father died.

The first time I heard about the fighting, people were saying that it was not that intense and not many people had been killed. The next time, the fighting was intense [had more casualties too] and maybe that is why it was over sooner. The people returned to their homes from their places of hiding in the mountains. Maybe that is why we also came back home. My grandfather brought us to Akhundu area about one week after the attack. My grandfather, who had become our guardian after my father, along with my three uncles and cousins buried my father. We only had them. My father was buried near a shrine called “Shah Qalandar” in Bedmishkeen area.

My mother was young and she tells us about the problems and hardships that we faced [after my father’s death]. She tells us about the [difficult] life she had. Obviously, my mother was very young. She only had three daughters with only one year gap between them. My mother was very young. She said that when my father died, there were not many casualties. There was no one to emphasize with her and tell her they are with her to support her. There were no such things. My mother fought [for us] all alone and faced many hardships. She even says that we did not even have shoes. She used to patch and sew our shoes together. We had a lot of such problems. When my grandfather was alive, he took us under his guardianship and he used to provide for our living expenses. He had four wives and my father was from his eldest [first] wife. My father did not have full-siblings. He only had one full-sister who lives in Iran. As for my uncles (father’s half-brothers), except for creating problems for us, they do not provide any help. As long as my grandfather was alive, my uncles used to help us. Now that he is no more, we have no one to help us. Three of my sisters are married now. Before that, we used to make hand sown [items] and sell them in the market. Also, before we sold our cow, we used to make ends meet that way.

I do not know the details [of how the incident took place]. I don’t know, maybe when he was fleeing towards the mountain, they were there and fired at him. Other than that, I do not have any more information. My mother says she could not enjoy her youth and how it went. There is a lump in her stomach area and when we ask her about it, she responds that it is all because of grief and sadness. She tells us that it is because of stress and worry that that area has hardened and now she is unwell. Her hands and feet hurt. She has worked a lot and now her wrist joints all hurt. We cannot even afford to treat her. There are some problems which prevents us from taking her to the hospital for treatment and her betterment.

I am a university student now. When I got accepted to the university, I told my mother that I would not go because she did not have the money to give me to go study. She told me to go because God is merciful; He has helped us until now without my father and He shall continue to help us.

I currently live in Bamiyan and with the seven thousand provided for living expenses, I manage. We do not have a financial support or a brother that can work, we only have my mother and she is unwell now. She is old and cannot work to provide for me. She cannot go work and give me money. Currently, with the living allowance that my university provides for me, I manage. My father was a hard worker and used to work in the fields day and night because he was a farmer. He was young back then. I heard from many people, they praised [how hard working] my father was. He was youthful and always used to work hard to provide for his family in an honest manner. Despite that, my mother tells me that my grandfather used to punish my father a lot and used his catchphrase, “may God take you young” a lot. However, I do not know the reason why he used to say that. Even then, my father always respected my grandfather and always worked hard to keep him happy and satisfied. Yes [we have pictures of my father], which one should I bring? Yes, [we live in Bedmishkeen currently] in a single room which my grandfather had given us at that time. My uncles are fighting over that now but we still live in that home.

I Identified Her from Her Ring, Earring, And Skirt

Maryam Hussaini was born on June 26, 1994, in Zardney Village, Shahristan District, Daikundi Province. She is five years younger than her sister, Najiba, who she looked to as a role model. Maryam has a BA in environmental studies from Kabul University and a BA in computer science. Currently, she is working with the Health and Social Care Organization in Daikundi. This narrative has been recorded by Afghanistan's Human Rights and Democracy Organization (AHRDO). Maryam had to search for her sister among tens of dead bodies. Therefore, she cried several times while narrating this narrative.

Narrator: Maryam Hussaini (victim's sister)

Victim: Najiba Hussaini

Date of incident: July 24, 2015

Venue of incident: Sar-e Kariz area, District 3, Kabul City

I am Maryam Hussaini, sister of Najiba Hussaini. I am 24-years-old and five years younger than Najiba. When the incident happened, Najiba was 28-years-old. She was born in 1989 in Shahristan District, Daikundi Province. She was the first child of my parents. I was born five years after her, and then my five brothers were born. Najiba was martyred in the incident on July 26, 2015, in the Sar-e Kariz area. When such an incident happens, the Taliban or Daesh usually take responsibility. But no one knows who is responsible for this attack.

Najiba was not supposed go to her office that day. She had taken leave from her office. Her passport was expired. She was supposed to apply for her new passport as she was planning to go on a trip abroad. In fact, she left home that day with such intention. I had left for the university an hour earlier than Najiba. At the university, I heard the explosion from Sar-e Kariz, District 3, Kabul City. When I heard the explosion, I thought that Najiba should not have been on her way to the office at this time along with other employees. I thought she would leave home later as she was planning to follow up on her passport renewal. I called her, but her phone was off. You know, it is a usual reaction for us Afghans to call our loved ones as the first thing after an explosion to make sure none of our family members are hurt. So, the first person I called was Najiba, as others were either at home or were not at that route at that time.

The second person I called was Mr. Rezaie. I thought he might know about her. When I called Rezaie, he had just left home for his office. He said that, unfortunately, he did not know either. He said that he knew there was a suicide attack but did not know about Najiba.

We went to different hospitals. I was hoping that she might have been injured or simply that her mobile phone was not working as it was common after such incidents. However, I could not think that such a significant incident had happened.

It was 7 am when we started searching for her, hoping that she might be injured or her phone was lost. We thought we should rush and take her to a better hospital if she was injured. The last hospital that was searched was the Police 200-Bed Hospital. It was around 11 am that we found Najiba's body there.

I was at the university when the attack happened. The first hospital I searched was Muwla Ali Hospital, the closest hospital to the explosion’s site. We were also told that the wounded were taken to that hospital. We found an injured person called Najiba on the list of that hospital with no severe injuries. As we searched further, we found that there were two martyrs in the same hospital. The hospital’s steps were covered with blood. It was the first time that I saw humankind's blood. For the first time, I saw pieces of human bodies. This was very difficult for me.

We searched many other hospitals afterward. But we could not find Najiba. That injured person, also called Najiba, was a school student. Najiba's body was not identifiable in the hospital where we found her. I identified a hand cut from her body and a silver earring in her ear. A part of her face was fused. The other thing we could identify was a piece of her clothes that she had worn at her MA graduation in Japan. That day, she wore the same clothes. It was tough for me. At the hospital, the officials did not let the extended family identify the corpse. It had to be someone from their immediate family. As my mother was living in Daikundi, it was only me. My aunties were there, but the hospital officials were not letting them go and identify the corpse. They were saying it had to be her sister. My brother first went to see the corpse. When he saw the corpse, he was shocked. I took him to the hospital. Then it was only I who had to go and identify the corpse. This was my first time and worst memory of seeing pieces of human bodies. I kept opening the coffins to find my sister. It was very difficult for me. I identified her from her ring, an earring in her ear, a part of her face that was not damaged, and a piece of her skirt.

All my hopes were destroyed there. There was no hope of searching for other hospitals. I opened the coffins three times. The doctors insisted to make sure we were not taking the wrong corpus. They were saying: "You must be very careful. You must be very strong and precise so that, God forbid, you do not take the wrong corpse instead of your sister's corpse." Therefore, I had to search the corpses three times. I was sure for several reasons. First, her hand was cut at the explosion site and it was intact, and I identified her from her ring. A piece of her skirt was also beside the coffin, and her earring was fused on her face. These clues made us sure that it was Najiba.

As our family members, colleagues, and friends got the news of the incident, everyone gathered and started searching for Najiba. We were divided into different groups. I was with Mr. Rezaie and some other relatives. We went to every hospital in Kabul, and there was a possibility that the injured ones might have been transported there. So the first thing we would do was to list the injured ones. We visited all these hospitals but could not find Najiba's name among their injured person list, except a Najib, who was 16-years-old and was a school student. First, we hoped that she would be our Najiba. But unfortunately, she was a Najiba of another family. We are happy that at least that Najiba was alive. When we could not find our Najiba in the list of wounded persons, we were forced to search among the martyrs and the torn bodies of martyrs. When I went to morgues, at the same time, an incident had happened in one of the provinces, and there were so many corpses of policemen. There were so many corpses, and it was very difficult for me. I had not seen a human corpus before; forget about bodies fused and torn into pieces.

I visited every coffin three times in search of Najiba, and then, I was sure. I told them it was her and did not know what happened next. I do not know how long I was unconscious at the hospital, for example, when they decided to transport the corpse. Once I opened my eyes, I realized that we were transporting the corpse to Daikundi. And it was very difficult that while searching for Najiba among the corpses, my father and mother kept calling me. I told them that there was such an incident and that they should pray that Najiba's car had not been the target. But they were distraught and wanted to ensure that Najiba was not among the incident's victims. It was very difficult for me to tell my father and my mother that such a horrible incident had happened. Finally, when I was sure it was Najiba's corpse and she was no longer alive, I had to tell my mother to prepare her. When my mother called me for the last time, all I could say to her was that Najiba was no longer among us. I do not know what else I told her. That is the toughest thing I ever told my mother. So that is how it happened. A year and few months after the incident, we still must deal with it.

Najiba and I were together in Daikundi only during our childhood and teenage years. After she finished school, she went to Bamiyan to give the university entrance exam and then moved to Kabul to study languages. So we were separated when I was in the seven or eight class of school. However, my mother always says that we were good during our childhood. She says we were very close and kind to each other and that she does not remember if we ever argued about anything.

Our childhood and teenage years were excellent. After Najiba moved to Kabul, it was the winter that year when she got a full scholarship in India as she had held the first position in all her school. We did not know that Najiba had the first position in her school. After that, she got a scholarship, and we understood that she had held the first position in all her schools, from first class to 12th class. Therefore, she was nominated and won a scholarship in India.

So Najiba moved to India, and I stayed in Daikundi with my mother. Najiba returned to Kabul after three years and completing her studies. I also came to Kabul to continue my education here. At the time, I was in 11th class. So it was the time that we reunited after almost four years. But our family was still living in Daikundi, and it was only us residing in Kabul.

Then, Najiba got a job at the Ministry of Mines. I was busy preparing for the university entrance exam and my school studies. After three years, Najiba won a competitive scholarship to study for a master's degree in Japan. So Najiba went to Japan while I stayed in Kabul and continued my studies. At that time, I was studying at Kabul University.

We both hoped and insisted on studying the same field. Our dreams were always the same. Najiba had studied Computer Science and I was accepted into Geology. So I also enrolled in Computer Science at a private university. I finished it this year.

Najiba got her MA in Computer Science and Information Technology. When she returned to the country in 2016, we reunited after almost three years. We, two sisters, had a happy and good life. It is a calm life. I am not saying it was a luxury. We were enjoying our simple lives and were moving to reach the peak of our happiness. We were getting close to our goals. Najiba had almost already reached her goals. I was trying to get there as well.

Najiba had only lived in Afghanistan for seven months when this attack happened. She was preparing for her wedding those days. We were planning to hold her engagement party in Daikundi a week or two after the incident. We mourned for the 40th day of her killing exactly when we planned to celebrate her wedding. Unfortunately, this incident happened. I have good memories with her. We went to Daikundi for the 2017 Eid. All the family members were together. On the second day of Eid, we traveled to Nili, where my aunt lived. My father was driving, and we, two sisters, were busy photographing and creating memories. Then, we traveled to Band-e Amir, Bamiyan. It was for the first time that we visited Band-e Amir.

It was very hard to deal with this incident for my mother. I was seriously sick after the incident, I was hospitalized, and had two operations. It was very difficult for my mother, who had already lost one daughter and was preparing to lose the second one. Even she had forgotten Najiba's death.

I hope and pray that no other family becomes a victim. Today I am telling this story and hoping it reaches those who commit such horrible crimes. At least with our repeated voice, their consciences trail them and stop them from committing such crimes against any other family. And no one mourns for the loss of their loved ones. So I am hopeful for that day and pray peace comes.

We do not know whose hands were behind the incident. The Taliban and Daesh usually take responsibility after each incident, whether big or small. And we also know that the Taliban and Daesh are fake. So probably, someone else's hands are involved behind the scenes. I hope the day comes that these people will be held accountable in front of their consciouses and that their consciouses are awake and do not let them commit such a crime against any other family whose members have not committed any sins. At least, they do not take their happiness.

No statement

No statement

Bamiyan Exists in the Government’s Blind Eye

Mohammad Zohak, as explained in the beginning of his speech, has graduated as a sociology major from Bamiyan University. He is a calm man. While talking, he speaks in a calm manner and explains the incident in all its details from memory. He has profound respect for his uncle, Jawad Zohak, and therefore, uses honorific words such as “Eishan” and “Raees Sahib” constantly while talking about him. To avoid repetition, we have omitted these words from the text below, except in few instances. At the time of the incident, all responsibilities fell on Mohammad Zohak's shoulders. Consequently, he has experienced a difficult time. He mentions those incidents and happenings in his life with confidence.

Narrator: Mohammad Zohak (victim’s nephew)

Victim: Jawad Zohak

Date of incident: June 7, 2011

Place of incident: Pul Rangan, Ghorband Valley, Parwan Province

My name is Mohammad and my surname is Zohak. I have a bachelors degree in social sciences and have graduated from Bamiyan University’s sociology major. I was born in Qufqool Village, Yakaolang District of Bamiyan Province. I am married with one child. I am the nephew of martyr Jawad Zohak. When he passed away, he was 44-years-old. He was also born in Bamiyan’s Yakaolang District in Qufqool Village, which is part of Sia Dara. Sia Dara is a zone and Qufqool is a village.

He was the chair of the Provincial Council and the people’s representative. Jawad Zohak had studied until twelfth grade. He had participated in the night-time Kankor Examination but did not succeed, unfortunately. His place of study was in Dasurkh High School in Yakaolang District. He was married and had three children: two sons and one daughter. His eldest child was his daughter and at that time, she was around 14-years-old. His two sons were 12 and 10-years-old. His daughter’s name is Freshta, his eldest son is called Farhad, and the last child is named Milad. At the time of the incident, all three were students at the center of Bamiyan. Their residence at that time was in Bamiyan, Zargaran area of the Safa Shahrak. We were there together.

On June 3, 2011, while travelling towards Bamiyan from Kabul, Jawad Zohak was captured by the Taliban in the Sia Gard area in Ghorband District. He had just participated in a conference in Herat which was for all Provincial Council chairs. He was killed on June 7, 2011, after five days in captivity.

He left Kabul around four in the morning or even earlier. Around six thirty, he was stopped in that area by the Taliban. He was with other passengers.

It was a Friday that day. It was June 3, 2011, when he was passing by Pul Rangan. They took him to the other side in Qumchaq Village. When the vehicle he was originally traveling in reached Shaikh Ali area, then since the people knew him, they informed the Provincial Council that the chair of the council was taken by the Taliban. We were informed around seven o’clock. Half an hour. Only with a half an hour delay. They had taken him to Qumchaq Village. He was kept there until his last living days.

I was informed later since there was no network where I was. The passengers and the driver he was with informed the Provincial Council. Then, the council informed our family. In just an hour or an hour and a half, even the television networks were informed. Tolo News had a news ticker that the Bamiyan Provincial Council chair was taken by the Taliban. Some news outlets had released a short news segment about the incident. Almost all of the family and relatives got to know about the incident through TV news channels.

No, they had not taken anyone. They had not taken anyone else but him. They had stopped just the car that the Provincial Council chair was in and let all the other cars go. When I got network connection, I was informed that my uncle had been captured in Pul Rangan in Ghorband. Unfortunately, I could not take any action. Naturally, in a state where a person like him is captured – that too by a brutal, terror group – it is difficult to manage yourself normally. It is difficult to manage yourself in those circumstances. Even now that I am talking about it, explaining it is difficult for me. Later, the local people, Bamiyan Provincial Council, other influential figures in Bamiyan, and some friends gathered in a mosque and decided that a team should go negotiate with the people in Sai Gard of Ghorband District about the reason why a people’s representative was taken and what they want from him. He is neither part of the military nor the government, he is a civilian. He is the representative of the people. If they [the captors] are against the government, then he, too, as a civil activist (despite people saying all kinds of things about him) has criticized the government and called it incompetent as part of his civil activities. So... what is it that you want?

In the end, six people were selected and they negotiated for around three or four days. At first, we would get good news. The negotiating team did not hear from him [Jawad] on the first day. Until the team found the elders of their community and got in touch with them to get [my uncle] released on the second day. I remember precisely that it was seven in the morning when they said that they would return the chair of the Provincial Council. We prepared to go to welcome him back. Well, we prepared around four o’clock to go to Ghorband and bring raees sahib. However, they called to inform us that his release was delayed and it might happen tomorrow instead. The people from the team of representative that were selected by the people to negotiate my uncle’s release called, which caused our family to wait until tomorrow in hopelessness. The next day, we were told that around nine, nine-thirty, or ten o’clock, raees sahib would be released. However, just like the previous day, his release was cancelled. On the fourth day, we did not hear any news about his release. There were rumors that Zohak was not even alive and that they were lying about releasing him. He had already been killed.

The members of the negotiating team and other influential figures who left Bamiyan were assured that the chair of the Provincial Council was still alive. They once again contacted to ask what the captors wanted from them and whether it was money that they wanted. They shall give them the money. If this person [referring to the victim] has harmed you in anyway, we shall compensate the harm. This continued on until the last day, when they said they would release him. He was supposed to be released at seven in the morning but then it got cancelled to eleven o’clock. And then, it was cancelled again. They said he would be released at seven in the evening.

It was around 11:30 PM. Around that time, the news outlets announced that the Taliban killed Bamiyan’s Provincial Council chair. The next day, they had thrown his body by the side of the road and sadly, planted land mines around him. Until that time, we still had a bit of hope because we wanted to wait until the body was identified and his death could be confirmed. There were land mines around his body so no one could get close until an expert team of bomb diffusers came to Shaikh Ali area from Parwan’s military unit. The people had zoomed on his face with their camera but they said his face could not be seen so it was not clear whether it was Zohak or someone else. After the team came and diffused the land mines, they identified the body as the chair of the Provincial Council. After that, we took the body to Parwan. From there, it was transported to Bamiyan via a helicopter. It was around four in the afternoon when we brought the martyr’s body to Bamiyan.

No, they did not ask for any ransom or anything like that. Like I mentioned previously, there were days when they would say he was going to be released. Some days, they said this two times and on the last day, they said it three times. From seven in the morning, to eleven in morning, and seven in the evening, they were saying he would be released. [They said] now that the people and influential figures came from Bamiyan, we will let him go. They were killing time like this until, unfortunately, we lost him.

One of the people who negotiated with the Taliban directly – I do not remember his name – was the focal person between the people of Bamiyan and the Taliban. He would deliver their word to us and ours to the Taliban. That person used to say that the Taliban will release raees sahib. After everything was over and raees sahib became a martyr, we were told that the Taliban had asked their elders – who were either part of the Quetta Shura or something, or were inside Afghanistan - whether to release him. But they decided that he would not be freed.

The negotiating team did not meet with Zohak at all. The Taliban did not even allow the team to talk with the victim on the phone. Also, even when one person from the family agreed to go there and see the victim just once to be sure he was alive, that was not allowed. No such thing happened. They took his life in a short span of time. If they had told this beforehand, more effort could have been taken at that time. Unfortunately, as I mentioned previously, you cannot manage yourself normally in such a situation because it is very difficult. We are a big family of around 18 to 20 people living together in a house. Trying to calm his family and children and other members of the family was a difficult task.

Under those circumstances, each relative gives a certain advice and one says to do this while the other says to do that, which puts you in a crossroad. At that time, we were not able to manage the situation as we should have or would have. As a result, they [the captors] also came to the conclusion that if this situation gets dragged longer, they might get calls from the higher ups and be forced to release him. Since he was the chair of the Provincial Council and had spent admirable years during the Jihad, he also knew many politicians, be it from Tajiks, Pashtuns, or Hazaras. He had met and interviewed many politicians up the ladder in the government. He had served as the people’s representative for two terms in Bamiyan. All in all, he was well known, so that is why the captors decided to finish the job quickly.

Unfortunately, there were many injuries on his body which indicated torture. It is very difficult for me to say this. His skull bone had become completely soft. His whole body was covered in bruises and injury; he was tortured. There was bullet wound and traces of torture. His bones were broken. The majority of his face was not recognizable. He did not have any kind of animosity with the Taliban. He was the people’s representative, not police or the army. He always traveled through land between Kabul and Bamiyan, although air travel was not available at that time. The airport in Bamiyan was not like it is today and the runway was unpaved. The airlines operating in Bamiyan today did not operate at that time. There was one airline called ‘Pactech’ but everyone preferred land travel over traveling on their airplane. I also have a memory of it. I came to Kabul on that airplane. As though it was going over the land like a car. Air travel was not available at that time as it is today, except for UNAMA which had a helicopter that came to Bamiyan sometimes. The heads of provincial offices, members of the provincial councils, and parliament members travelled with the help of their colleagues in UNAMA. Other than that, there were no airline companies which had scheduled flights during the week. In general, Jawad travelled on land. In addition, there were no such incidents on the Kabul-Bamiyan, Ghorband, and Maidan Wardak routes. You could say that it was completely unprecedented and such thing had happened for the very first time. Other than that, it is not known who had reported him as everyone said something. Certainly, the Taliban have people in all the paths between one province to the other. The other passengers with him and the car which came to deliver his bag to us said that only their car was stopped to pull raees sahib out, and the rest were told to leave. They said the captors came directly towards Zohak while he was in the passenger seat. As they spotted raees sahib in the car, they pulled him out of the car and told everyone else to leave. From what the driver said, it is evident that his whereabouts were reported. It was not an accident.

[Mohamamd Zohak stays silent in response to the question about the condition of Zohak’s wife and children upon receiving his body] Well, it was a difficult time. Although death is inevitable, the sudden death of a loved one who had traveled and you were waiting for his return, is difficult. The fact that the loved one’s body is returned to you is difficult. Although I was not at home at that time, I got a call from Parwan. From what I remember, Parwan’s governor had called the family that the body of raees sahib was transported to the airport in Parwan. He had informed the family that two helicopters will bring his body to Bamiyan. After that, deputy of the minister of defense, General Jawhari – he was a deputy back then – also called that he will reach Bamiyan in an hour. We were busy with these things back then. The airport that you saw, at that time, was unpaved and a helicopter landed. From there, the people accompanied the victim’s corpse to Rahbar Shaheed mosque inside the market area. Yes, on foot... Then, it was decided to not bury him on that day. The elders of Bamiyan and the council made the decision to bury him the next day because many government officials were coming from Kabul. The president’s representative and the provincial council representatives were to come the next day. After a small ceremony, we took the body to the hospital and kept it in the mortuary fridge. By the time we got back home, it was around 7:30-8:00 in the night. It was dark outside when we reached home. The situation in our house was unimaginable and uncontrollable. I was not very old or mature when Zohak died and I became the caretaker of the family. I am around 30-34 years old and this incident took place about 8 or 9 years ago. Managing the household was difficult. His wife, sons and daughter, and my sister and mother, all of us were part of the same household. Although he was a boss and the chair of a provincial council, with his family and extended relatives, he was always like a friend. Without him, we are around 7-8 brothers. With our sisters and other family members, he was always very nice. But when this incident took place, everyone was shocked. It is hard to describe how the situation was at that time.

Still, with whatever little ability we had, we managed ourselves. That night was a very difficult night. By the next day, when the representatives of the provincial council were supposed to come, a number of representatives from Herat, Mazar, and Bamiyan came for the funeral. The next day, we were busy with the funeral and burial of our martyr. As the head of the family, in a way, all of the responsibility for the funeral and burial was on my shoulders. We had funeral ceremonies one after the other. There were ceremonies here and in Yakaolang. After the ceremony in Yakaolang, we had another funeral ceremony in Kabul. I was responsible for the family as well as all the funeral ceremonies. We were busy with those and so was the rest of the family. Well, he was an important and big person. Despite all the difficulties, his death was unbelievable for us. Meaning, it was difficult to bear it. On the other hand, we were obliged to follow the customs and traditions of our society. We were busy with these things until the fortieth day of his passing.

Regarding the reason why this incident happened, he had a saying, if you have heard it, that if the government does not have the money to pave the streets in Bamiyan despite it being an important province and the center of tourism in Afghanistan, then the people will do it themselves. He paved the street in Bamiyan’s market area, all of the streets there. This was a form of civil protest against the government’s neglect. He was protesting for the streets, drinkable water, and issues of electricity. We have a roundabout in Bamiyan called Alakain roundabout. Zohak, along with his other civil activist colleagues, decided to install a lamp so that Bamiyan becomes illuminated. He had a famous saying during Karzai’s term that went like, ‘One eye of the government is blind and unfortunately, Bamiyan exist in the side of that blind eye and that is why they get no attention from the government.’ He was always a critic of the government in a way. However, on his last trip to Herat, two representatives from each provincial council were present. The conference was important in terms of its accountability towards people. Since provincial councils are bodies that observe the government’s actions, even in the conference during his speech, there were some problems and it was about to get cancelled. That was his last engagement with the government. In my opinion, the government was capable – the government has that much power to free the chair of a provincial council from few Taliban members – to save him under those circumstances, as the protection and security of the people is the responsibility of the government. I can say in confidence that the government was negligent. They were so negligent that even the defense deputy minister had posted on his Facebook page that even foreigners were asking for the release of the provincial council chair. They had requested the government for one or two people who could rescue him as foreign nationals were not allowed to use aircrafts and send people to rescue someone who was not their fellow countryman. They had even found the place where raees sahib was held and told [the government] that he was kept in a room with another person. They requested for one or two people to be sent there via a helicopter to rescue Zohak.

The government did not respond to this matter either, unfortunately. I want to say there is a sort of collusion between the government and the Taliban. In all the issues of districts collapsing; the conflict in Kunduz; the conflict in Baghlan; in the assassination of Burhanuddin Rabbani and other assassinations; even Karzai’s brother, who was the head of a provincial council, was assassinated; in all these matters, the government is aware and there is a collusion between them and the Taliban. Those who criticize the government in any way, they are not allowed to succeed and are not tolerated. I am certain that in the assassination of martyr Jawad Zohak, there was some sort of collusion between the government and the Taliban. Both parties cooperate with each other in such matters.

The impact of this incident was that we lost our family [member], he was everyone’s hope and someone we always relied on. I can say that after losing him, our family no longer has been able to be happy in the true sense of it. We sent his wife and children abroad because guaranteeing their safety was beyond my capability, whether they lived in Bamiyan or Kabul. Although I could also go with them through their [asylum] case, I did not leave. I could not go. I could not let go of this place. [His death] definitely left a negative impact on our lives. Especially on his children, who lost their father and their friend at such a young age. The impact will be felt throughout all their lives. It is difficult for all of us, truly difficult. His children and widow do not have any financial or security problems, but we all have mother and fathers and losing such a great father in such a young age is difficult. For us, the loss of such a significant person has left a huge void in our lives.

We took a lot of initiatives, even submitted a petition to the United Nations. We also sent a copy of it to ten other reputable embassies in Kabul. I submitted the petition to the office of the president myself. I delivered the petition to the deceased former vice president, Marshal Fahim, and personally gave another copy to the second vice president, Mohammad Karim Khalili. As for human rights organizations, we sent a copy to the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Organization chaired by Ms. Samar. This was all we were able to do but unfortunately, we have not received any response. In 2017, we submitted a complaint to the International Criminal Court in the Hague through your organization but we have not gotten any result so far. Getting a response for such an incident is difficult in Afghanistan but we will still pursue it. Although I am very disappointed, I will still pursue it. We shall participate in such issues. We hope that we will get a result, although the person we lost cannot come back to life. Still, we hope that all our effort will lead to a possibility of bringing these criminals to the court. We shall participate in that. Inshallah just as such atrocities have happened in other countries like in Europe, Latin American, and even the United States, and after years of the people advocating, the perpetrators were brought to justice. We constantly hear from the media that this dictator or that group has been sentenced to life imprisonment or death. We also hope that these people who have committed such acts shall be dragged to the court and be brought to justice. They shall be asked what right they had to make three children without a father and make a family without their guardian. Who has given you such a right? Certainly, it is not God. We are hopeful that one day they will be brought to justice. Just as you explained before and showed a video, we definitely want a part of his [Jawad's] memories to be there [in the museum] although it is part of our customs that when a person becomes a martyr, their clothes and other items are given to poor people and their personal possessions like wristwatches, rings, pens, mobile phone and such are distributed among the close relatives. The ring is given to this person and the wristwatch is given to that person, like the brother or his children. Just like that, after his passing, everything. We even sent some of his personal belongings to his sister abroad to keep as a memory. However, we have a few of his clothes which can be displayed in the [memory] boxes. We shall place his pictures there which are part of his memories. Aside from that, we have kept his shoes which he wore the very last time. It is still at home and we have not given it to anybody. Yes, we have kept it with us. We are willing to place some of his items with his pictures in the [memory boxes]. How can we not be willing?

Although Jawad Zohak was the youngest child from my grandfather, they were eight brothers in total. Only two of his elder brothers are currently with us but the rest six of them, including Jawad, have passed away. He has two sisters. One of them is here in Bamiyan and the other lives abroad, both of them were elder to Jawad. From among our relatives, only the nephews and nieces are left, two of my aunts and uncles. The country they went to as political refugees provides for their expenses. His children study and his widow is busy taking care of them. They are currently studying. One of his sons is in high school and his daughter, who is also the eldest child, is a first-year college student.

All of us had that one house and we still have it now. My grandfather’s house is in Yakaolang but after the end of the Taliban regime and start of the new government, we came here and built this house.

We remember his behavior almost every evening. He had a busy job as the head of the Provincial Council of a whole province and was occupied with meetings with government officials and the people (part of his responsibility was accountability toward the people). He was very fond of nature and even if he could not do it daily, he still took the whole family out to tour around in Bamiyan valleys whenever he had the time. Sometimes he would tour for only an hour and once time, it was just for half an hour. He was very fond of touring around. One of his best characteristics, besides loving the nature as I explained before, was that he played sports and he would always encourage all of us, one way or the other, to exercise. Although at the end times, because he had sustained an injury, he was not very physically strong and because of that injury, could not do heavy sports. He was very capable in three sports which were Taekwondo, Kung Fu, and gymnastics. In his recent times, when he could not do heavy sports, he was interested in playing tennis. He liked playing tennis but there were not many facilities at that time but there was a table tennis inside a hall in Telecommunications Directorate and he always played there. His other good feature was that he never had any bad intentions toward other people. Whenever I would say that this person is not a good person, all from lack of experience, he would tell me, “No, you might not have the experience or the age to pass a judgement on whether a person is good or bad. This might just be your opinion of that person that they are but in reality, they could be good people.” He would tell me that that person might be good but your impression of them might be bad. It is also possible that the other person also has a negative impression of you but that does not mean that either you or that person is bad. He would also tell me that these all are the judgements that we make about people. In general, he did not like improper judgements of people.

He would advise us that such a characteristic was not good. He would always want the good of the people and even today, if you ask the people of Bamiyan, they would tell you about his good behavior. Issues of language, ethnicity, and identity did not matter to him. He would say that we all are humans and that all of us should find a way to live a life that is worthy for a human being. Definitely, all people were not created in once place and all of us belong to a certain district and area, but such issues like a person’s background did not matter to him. He had good behavior. He was very kind to all family members and most of people. If he wanted someone to realize that they had made a mistake, he would do it with humor and in a joking manner. His humorous nature is well known among the politicians, whether they are in Kabul or Bamiyan.

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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.

While in Pain and Agony, They Threw Him Among Salts

Jamila Hussaini is a 23-year-old married woman living in the Mirzaolang refugee tents. Jamila was born in Sar-e Pol Province. Until the fighting in Mirzaolang, she lived there in Naoabad’s Masjid Sarsang Village. She used to weave kilim rugs in Mirzaolang and has two sons named Binyamin and Yosuf.

Narrator: Jamila Hussaini (Victim’s sister)

Victim: Sayed Shahbaba Hussaini (45-years-old)

Place of incident: Mirzaolang, Sayad District, Sar-e Pol Province

My name is Jamil Hussaini and I studied till the fourth grade. I am 23-years-old and was born in Mirzaolang. Our village was called Sarsang. I am a housewife and do no other work except taking care of my sons. Previously, I used to weave rugs.

We are three siblings. I have two children named Binyamin, 3, born in Mirzaolang, and Yosuf, 1, who was born in Mazar. Currently, we live in rented houses in the Hassan Abad area of Mazar-e-Sharif. Before, we spent eight months in refugee tents. We lived in Sarsang Village where the fighting happened. Sayed Shahbaba, 45 years of age, was my brother and he was born in Mirzaolang. My brother used to farm in the village but he was literate.

My brother had two wives: six children from his first wife, and three daughters and two sons from his second wife. His eldest child from his first wife is Shah Jahan, 18-years-old, who studied only until the second grade. His second son is 17-years-old and studied until the eighth grade before we fled Mirzaolang. He has another son called Mohammad Ali and the name of his 14-year-old daughter is Bibijan, who does not study. Another son is called Juma Khan, 13, and the other daughter is Sumaya, 12. His children from his second wife are as follows: Zubaida (daughter), 12, Arifa (daughter), 9, Jawad (son), 7, Ruqaya (daughter), 4 and Kazim (son), only five-and-a-half years old.

My brother’s children no longer study after we fled Mirzaolang. There are either no schools here, or people do not want kids from Mirzaolang to study in their schools. The caretaker of the family after my brother was his 17-year-old son. We have left all our belongings - property, land, everything - and now, we have nothing.

When the fighting occurred in Mirzaolang, all thirteen members of the [victim’s] family were inside their home. My other brother also lived on the same property but all their finances and expenses were completely separate. My brother [victim] was the breadwinner of his family. On the night of the attack, all their property and donkeys, stacked with crops and harvest, remained in place while they fled and left everything behind.

On Sunday night, the Taliban captured the [police] checkpoints in Mirzaolang and for two nights, the people fought against the Taliban. On the third night, government forces and tanks came. The people said they would not leave until the last moment. On that last night, we were still in our village and after we came out to the streets, both the Taliban and government forces were shooting but neither side recognized the other, and everyone fled the area. Truly, life is precious. Everyone was trying to save themselves and because of the firing and tanks, all of them were separated while fleeing. We were the first to have escaped the area and it was still dark outside, but we could hear the sounds of gunfire.

My brother was separated from his family who managed to flee to Sar-e Pol with us. However, when we reached Sar-e Pol, he [victim] did not answer his phone and no one knew of his whereabouts. This is until the situation got better. After twelve days, my family went back to the area and found out that my brother had died. During those twelve days, many bodies, including my brother’s, had decomposed and became unrecognizable. My family recognized my brother from his footwear from the Panjshir area. There were around 30 to 40 more dead with my brother. Our relatives say that they could not sleep for one week after collecting the bodies because of how horribly the bodies were torn and decomposed.

Many people were wailing holding onto their father or uncle’s patho, or their mother, sister, or child’s clothes after they had returned to the area. I have videos of some of those scenes that I will show to you.

Truly, they killed the people in a cowardly manner because our area and its residents were not on the battle fronts. They held our people hostage and killed them, no matter their age. My brother’s children would always say that their father was in Mirzaolang to take care of the cattle in order to bring them to the family. However, when the news of my brother’s death reached, my sisters-in-law and their children were completely devastated as they could not believe it. They were all crying.

The children from my brother’s first wife lost both their father and mother. As for the children from the second wife, she’s the only caretaker of the family and they are not in good living circumstances. They do not have any new clothes or good food on Eid or other happy occasions. My sister-in-law (victim’s second wife) barely makes ends meet for eleven members of her family with rug weaving and doing people’s laundry. We never considered the security in Mirzaolang to be bad because all our property, land, and livelihood were there. We never thought that the Taliban would ruin our lives and make us homeless. But no, when the police checkpoints were abandoned, the Taliban surrounded the valley and fired at us. Binyamin, my youngest son, tripped several times when we were fleeing but still, because life is precious, he would do his best to run and escape the area. It was God’s will for some to die, and others to stay alive and get displaced like this.

The Taliban would always come to our village to tell us to surrender but we never did. In the end, neither the government nor the local people were able to defend [against them] until Mirzaolang collapsed and our people were killed. All of the Taliban and Daesh fight like cowards. They attack our homes, villages, and checkpoints without warning. They killed farmers, laborers, and daily workers. I wish our people had weapons to fight against the Taliban and kill them. But no, our people were all impoverished.

Our people (from Mirzaolang) tell the tale of an old man who was confident that the Taliban would not harm him because of his age. He went to the village but the Taliban did not have mercy, even to him. They injured him and afterward, while he was in pain and agony, they threw him among the salt in a salt shop. The old man died there in pain and agony. Believe me when I say that our apple, grape, and other fruits were still hanging in their trees when we fled Mirzaolang. I still cannot sleep well and remember that we would pray to die rather than get captured by the Taliban and not die by their bullet at every moment while fleeing. I still remember the Taliban noises (as a result of their attack); it is truly terrifying. I really want the government to bring my family and me back to Mirzaolang so that we live in our homes independently and not in refugee tents. We are tired of being displaced and homeless. We want to go back to our homes, lands, and its crops.