AHRDO

When I regained consciousness, one was lying on the right side and the other on the left side.

Aziza Akbari was born in Sangcharak District of Sar-e Pul Province in Tebar Village. She grew up in Balkh. She studied education in Balkh Province and studies medicine in a private university. She is a twenty-year-old and is the cousin of the victims. She speaks very slowly and describes the incident.

Narrator: Aziza Akbari (Uncle's Daughter)

Victims: Ahmad Sohail and Marhaba

Date of the incident: November 2017

Location of the incident: Mirzavalang, Saiyad District, Sar-e Pol Province

In the winter of 2017, the Taliban attack Tabar Village - my village -which was the center of several other villages. If they took this village, they would be able to increase their control and possessions over other villages. So, they would attack this village a lot. When people got info about the Taliban’s attack on our village, people would run away to save their lives. They would take only one piece of clothing and save the family members. They would close their homes and run away to save their lives. The Taliban had spies among the people.

My uncle had three sons and two daughters. He prevented his eldest son from going to school and wanted him to be a Quran reciter. He had taken him to the reciters. One day while he was reciting, his hands were on his feet. His teacher (the Mullah) had slashed him with a stick. The sick hit on one of his eyes. He had poor eyesight for one or two weeks, and in the third week, he told his father that he couldn't see with his right eye. After that, his father wanted to take him to Pakistan for treatment. He was in Mazar-e-Sharif at the time, when Taliban suddenly invaded and occupied our area. He called his family to come out of the house and told his wife to take their children and go to a safe area.

The mother takes her two daughters and one of her sons, her other son left the area with his uncle. In the third day of the war, she heard that war had ended and everybody could go home. She had gone back with her two children; one daughter, Marhaba, and one of her sons, Sohail. Unfortunately, she was trapped in the middle of war, near their house; they had heard wrong information. At the time of the incident, I was in Mazar-e-Sharif with my family. We moved here after 2016 and they were there.

She has gone early in the morning at breakfast time. They were trapped until 11AM. My uncle's wife told us that we were in the warzone. A mortar or rocket directly hit my daughter and she was martyred on the spot. I was unconscious and when I regained my consciousness, the sun was shining on my head and the Taliban were walking here and there. They did not help us. Her son had all his intestines protruding from his abdomen. It was around 12:00 o'clock - lunch time, we got the news that two of her children were martyred.

My uncle was at our home and he was informed that he should go to the site as soon as possible. My uncle's wife said that when the incident happened, it was early in the morning as there were shadows. The sun passed over our heads; it was around 12 noon. I kept calling out that my daughter and I were okay, please help my son at least. First, the Taliban were careless. After a while, the Taliban put all his intestines in his stomach and took him to the mosque, then my younger uncle took Sohail to a hospital. His situation was so bad that even my uncle could not look at him. As said, his father was here in Mazar, he wanted to go to Pakistan. When he heard the news, he moved directly from Mazar to Sar-e Pol. He had brought his wife and son to the center of Sar-e Pol. His daughter had been killed immediately on the spot, she had been hit directly. Her mother was also severely wounded on her right leg and she was operated on several times. Sohail had been taken to Sar-e Pol, then to Sheberghan and to Mazar-e-Sharif. Sohail was operated on twice in Mazar-e-Sharif.

They only operated on his stomach and did not do anything with his legs. Doctors had operated first on his stomach and moved his intestines, then wanted to work on his legs. After a few days, the poor boy’s foot became microbial.

The boy was able to chat normally every day. He chatted in such a way that we thought that no accident had happened to him at all. But he would suddenly faint; he was getting weaker every day. Finally, Sohail was taken to Kabul. They reached out to all sides and authorities. We said we should at least save the boy’s life. With a lot of effort, they reached the emergency hospital in Kabul where it is very difficult to accept such patients.

He had been to the children's hospital in Kabul. I don't know exactly. He was operated on there too. He became weaker day-by-day and in the days close to his death, he could not even speak. When doctors opened the bandage of his legs, they faced a very bad condition. After the operation, they informed him that he had died. I don't know when Sohail Jan passed away.

He was alive for about 38 or 40 days. He had been taken from one hospital to another one. He had undergone various operations until finally he was martyred.

When Marhaba was brought to be buried, none of us saw her. It was said that her scarf was not even removed from her head, but when you touched her, all her bones were broken into pieces. Her single bones were completely torn apart under her skin.

Their mother said: "It was a mortar or a rocket. When it hit, the whole place was covered in dust. I didn't see anything, I lost my consciousness... When I regained consciousness, my daughter was on my left, my son was on my right. My daughter had been martyred and my son was saying, 'Mother!' No matter how much I told the Taliban to help me to at least save my son, they did not pay attention."

They were so cruel that they didn't even pay attention to the fact that this child was lying here, and they should take him a little under the shade. She said that there were people in the houses at that time, but they could not come out to save his life. There was a person in the neighbouring house who threw a plastic sheet out from under the door to cover the girl's body, but he could not get out himself.

There are local Taliban in the village among the people. When we called them many times and begged them, they took my child to the mosque and the Taliban who were from other areas did not help.

No, no, his mother didn't have a phone. At twelve o'clock, my uncle received a call from the village that his wife and children were martyred and he must come collect them. It was still 1 o'clock when the mother of my uncle’s wife arrived at the scene of the incident and took her daughter to the mosque, and from the mosque to the district clinic.

The Taliban brought the boy to the mosque and my younger uncle took the boy. The mother of my uncle’s wife, granddaughter of my uncle, together with my aunt's husband, went to the area. They put the body of the girl inside the roller. They had taken both the boy and the girl to Sar-e Pol.

My uncle’s wife herself does not talk about her pain, she was only worried about her children's health. When they took her to Sheberghan, her leg was operated on so she had to stay there, but her son was brought to Mazar-e-Sharif. It was November, and the village was calm and quiet. Then after 30 days, she was still worried about her son and was saying: My daughter was killed, my son should stay alive." 38 or 40 days later, when she heard that her son died too, she was mentally destroyed. She sat in her place and she could not get up for almost a year. Her eldest daughter was doing her work. Only God and herself know her pain and grief.

My uncle was a very brave man, he showed his bravery here in this very difficult time as he did not raise his noise. He was a tall man who, when you look him from his back, you'd think he was an eighty-year-old man, he was bent over like that. He became like that after the incident. Now the whole area is under the control of Taliban. The center of Sangcharak District is under the government.

Before the incident, my uncle was telling his wife not to go to the village. He called her every minute saying not go anywhere and to stay at her mother's house. She had gone out at once, but she came back soon. Someone had told her that it was good she came back. But she could not wait and told her, "Let me go and check my house once, war is ended." She moved towards the house without my uncle knowing it.

People walk there and don't use cars so much. It has been an hour walk. Her family knew, but my uncle and our family did not know that they had moved to that direction. The war was going on in the village. Some say that it was the government's rocket or mortar, and some say that Taliban deliberately hit this family. It is not clear whether the Taliban hit or the government's aerial missiles hit as the war was intense at that time.

I think it was the second war in the region, after that it was always sporadic fighting. Our village was very good in every way before that, it was populated, peaceful, and green. But when Taliban captured the area, the village was not like it was in the past. Taliban were oppressing/harassing people and shopkeepers. Taliban were taking tithe based on the goods available in the shop. They charged every shop 10-15000Afn. There are many good grape gardens in our village, which produce a lot of grape every year. Grape is the main source of income of people in our village. Taliban takes tithes of these local products.

In my opinion, the incident was as a result of difference among the people. Some take the government's side and some the Taliban's side. Taliban has put a lot of pressure on the people and propagated against the government. When you go to the village nowadays, people praise the Taliban a lot. People are not united. These differences caused the area to collapse at the hand of the Taliban.

First the Taliban killed all elders, influential people, those who could read and write, or those who could speak in public. They would kill them either at night, or on their way to somewhere, or in the evening when they came out of the mosque, or when coming out of Friday prayer. They were killed everywhere. Now when you go to the village, there is not a single person left who can write or speak. Yes, they were killed in the first stage. Then, Taliban occupied the village themselves.

It has been almost ten years since we came here (Mazar City) to study. We only went for three months in winter and one month in summer because of holidays.

Currently, the mother, eldest daughter, and one of her sons live in our village, in Tebar. My uncle has taken his eldest son to Turkey to treat his eye, which was hurt by a Mullah.

Our only wish is peace and stabilization in the area. Nothing is more important than peace. When it is calm, you are fully healthy. Can you believe that when there is a war between the government and the Taliban, people leave their homes and properties? They can’t go back to the area for a long time. You know how much they would be harmed? How much they suffer? We only want peace, we don't want anything else.

I don't know whether the government is paying attention to the perpetrators of this incident or not. In my opinion, the government should pay attention to these kinds of issues, otherwise everyone will become indifferent to the government. The government starts a war for a short time, doesn't try to capture the area, then stops the war and leaves the area. Their operations must be successful. If they can’t do it, they should not do it at all. What is the point of such operations? Only civilians are killed in the war. There are no other results of their unsuccessful operations.

In this case, it is better that Taliban take the area, so that people don’t die in the war. As a citizen, I want the government to bring peace throughout the country. How long we are displaced and go from one region to another to protect our lives. We just want peace.

Taliban are very cruel people. People come from the village and tell us stories of Taliban bad behavior and cruelty.

You should wear Burqa there. Villagers say that Taliban made a pipe out of animal skin and filled it up with coins. When something is against their will, they whip the person in public. They have dangerous appearance. We cannot go out into the street. Most grown-ups have left the village and there are small people living in the community. If we go out of the house, we have to put on Chadari. For Taliban it makes no difference if you are a 12 or 15-year-old girl, everyone has to put on Chadari.

They allowed school only until the sixth grade, girls can’t go to school above the sixth grade. The situation is not good at all, people have to fulfill all Taliban expenses. They enter a mosque and say that tonight they are guests. People are poor. Those who were not poor have become poor and left the village. This is what the Taliban do.

My uncle had five children, two of them were martyred and three remain. His eldest daughter is about 16-years-old. She was a school student. She is not allowed to study anymore. His son Nurul Amin is almost 14-years-old. If children are going to school, they must wear white clothes and caps. School teachers are from the same area. They teach the children. My uncle has another daughter, her name is Nabila. She is married. It has been 16 years that she has lived in her own independent house.

My uncle was the only breadwinner of his family. He had a three tired motorcycle and a house of their own. The mental condition of the mother has not improved yet. She remembers her children, how can her mental state improve? She is withered and unwell and can't walk. She hasn't been able to walk for almost two years now. How can she forget such a heartbreaking incident where two of her children were martyred? Her mental state is very bad for now.

Her elder daughter is also not in a good state. If you call her ten times, she will not respond. She saw her brother in that situation and she witnessed her younger sister where the incident took place. She is not normal, she was also affected mentally.

Marhaba Jan was buried in the same area where her grandmother lived, and martyr Ahmad Sohail was buried in his own area.

As far as my memories are concerned, I have many sweet memories from my childhood. Because we all lived in the same village. We all gathered in one place in the evening. Sohail was a funny kid, he used to annoy us a lot, but the girl was calm. Whenever I stayed at their house, in the morning when I was sleeping - I liked this habit a lot - in the morning after the prayer call, if it was winter, she would bring warm water and wake me up to do my prayer. She paid a lot of attention to prayer and recited Quran very well.

At that age, she was very kind. She always used to wake me up in the morning when I was in their house. This was a good memory and I liked it. It is a custom that they give all their belongings to somebody. Marhaba Jan made a knitted dress for herself. I have brought that for the museum.

When I regained consciousness, one was lying on the right side and the other on the left side.

Aziza Akbari was born in Sangcharak District of Sar-e Pul Province in Tebar Village. She grew up in Balkh. She studied education in Balkh Province and studies medicine in a private university. She is a twenty-year-old and is the cousin of the victims. She speaks very slowly and describes the incident.

Narrator: Aziza Akbari (Uncle's Daughter)

Victims: Ahmad Sohail and Marhaba

Date of the incident: November 2017

Location of the incident: Mirzavalang, Saiyad District, Sar-e Pol Province

In the winter of 2017, the Taliban attack Tabar Village - my village -which was the center of several other villages. If they took this village, they would be able to increase their control and possessions over other villages. So, they would attack this village a lot. When people got info about the Taliban’s attack on our village, people would run away to save their lives. They would take only one piece of clothing and save the family members. They would close their homes and run away to save their lives. The Taliban had spies among the people.

My uncle had three sons and two daughters. He prevented his eldest son from going to school and wanted him to be a Quran reciter. He had taken him to the reciters. One day while he was reciting, his hands were on his feet. His teacher (the Mullah) had slashed him with a stick. The sick hit on one of his eyes. He had poor eyesight for one or two weeks, and in the third week, he told his father that he couldn't see with his right eye. After that, his father wanted to take him to Pakistan for treatment. He was in Mazar-e-Sharif at the time, when Taliban suddenly invaded and occupied our area. He called his family to come out of the house and told his wife to take their children and go to a safe area.

The mother takes her two daughters and one of her sons, her other son left the area with his uncle. In the third day of the war, she heard that war had ended and everybody could go home. She had gone back with her two children; one daughter, Marhaba, and one of her sons, Sohail. Unfortunately, she was trapped in the middle of war, near their house; they had heard wrong information. At the time of the incident, I was in Mazar-e-Sharif with my family. We moved here after 2016 and they were there.

She has gone early in the morning at breakfast time. They were trapped until 11AM. My uncle's wife told us that we were in the warzone. A mortar or rocket directly hit my daughter and she was martyred on the spot. I was unconscious and when I regained my consciousness, the sun was shining on my head and the Taliban were walking here and there. They did not help us. Her son had all his intestines protruding from his abdomen. It was around 12:00 o'clock - lunch time, we got the news that two of her children were martyred.

My uncle was at our home and he was informed that he should go to the site as soon as possible. My uncle's wife said that when the incident happened, it was early in the morning as there were shadows. The sun passed over our heads; it was around 12 noon. I kept calling out that my daughter and I were okay, please help my son at least. First, the Taliban were careless. After a while, the Taliban put all his intestines in his stomach and took him to the mosque, then my younger uncle took Sohail to a hospital. His situation was so bad that even my uncle could not look at him. As said, his father was here in Mazar, he wanted to go to Pakistan. When he heard the news, he moved directly from Mazar to Sar-e Pol. He had brought his wife and son to the center of Sar-e Pol. His daughter had been killed immediately on the spot, she had been hit directly. Her mother was also severely wounded on her right leg and she was operated on several times. Sohail had been taken to Sar-e Pol, then to Sheberghan and to Mazar-e-Sharif. Sohail was operated on twice in Mazar-e-Sharif.

They only operated on his stomach and did not do anything with his legs. Doctors had operated first on his stomach and moved his intestines, then wanted to work on his legs. After a few days, the poor boy’s foot became microbial.

The boy was able to chat normally every day. He chatted in such a way that we thought that no accident had happened to him at all. But he would suddenly faint; he was getting weaker every day. Finally, Sohail was taken to Kabul. They reached out to all sides and authorities. We said we should at least save the boy’s life. With a lot of effort, they reached the emergency hospital in Kabul where it is very difficult to accept such patients.

He had been to the children's hospital in Kabul. I don't know exactly. He was operated on there too. He became weaker day-by-day and in the days close to his death, he could not even speak. When doctors opened the bandage of his legs, they faced a very bad condition. After the operation, they informed him that he had died. I don't know when Sohail Jan passed away.

He was alive for about 38 or 40 days. He had been taken from one hospital to another one. He had undergone various operations until finally he was martyred.

When Marhaba was brought to be buried, none of us saw her. It was said that her scarf was not even removed from her head, but when you touched her, all her bones were broken into pieces. Her single bones were completely torn apart under her skin.

Their mother said: "It was a mortar or a rocket. When it hit, the whole place was covered in dust. I didn't see anything, I lost my consciousness... When I regained consciousness, my daughter was on my left, my son was on my right. My daughter had been martyred and my son was saying, 'Mother!' No matter how much I told the Taliban to help me to at least save my son, they did not pay attention."

They were so cruel that they didn't even pay attention to the fact that this child was lying here, and they should take him a little under the shade. She said that there were people in the houses at that time, but they could not come out to save his life. There was a person in the neighbouring house who threw a plastic sheet out from under the door to cover the girl's body, but he could not get out himself.

There are local Taliban in the village among the people. When we called them many times and begged them, they took my child to the mosque and the Taliban who were from other areas did not help.

No, no, his mother didn't have a phone. At twelve o'clock, my uncle received a call from the village that his wife and children were martyred and he must come collect them. It was still 1 o'clock when the mother of my uncle’s wife arrived at the scene of the incident and took her daughter to the mosque, and from the mosque to the district clinic.

The Taliban brought the boy to the mosque and my younger uncle took the boy. The mother of my uncle’s wife, granddaughter of my uncle, together with my aunt's husband, went to the area. They put the body of the girl inside the roller. They had taken both the boy and the girl to Sar-e Pol.

My uncle’s wife herself does not talk about her pain, she was only worried about her children's health. When they took her to Sheberghan, her leg was operated on so she had to stay there, but her son was brought to Mazar-e-Sharif. It was November, and the village was calm and quiet. Then after 30 days, she was still worried about her son and was saying: My daughter was killed, my son should stay alive." 38 or 40 days later, when she heard that her son died too, she was mentally destroyed. She sat in her place and she could not get up for almost a year. Her eldest daughter was doing her work. Only God and herself know her pain and grief.

My uncle was a very brave man, he showed his bravery here in this very difficult time as he did not raise his noise. He was a tall man who, when you look him from his back, you'd think he was an eighty-year-old man, he was bent over like that. He became like that after the incident. Now the whole area is under the control of Taliban. The center of Sangcharak District is under the government.

Before the incident, my uncle was telling his wife not to go to the village. He called her every minute saying not go anywhere and to stay at her mother's house. She had gone out at once, but she came back soon. Someone had told her that it was good she came back. But she could not wait and told her, "Let me go and check my house once, war is ended." She moved towards the house without my uncle knowing it.

People walk there and don't use cars so much. It has been an hour walk. Her family knew, but my uncle and our family did not know that they had moved to that direction. The war was going on in the village. Some say that it was the government's rocket or mortar, and some say that Taliban deliberately hit this family. It is not clear whether the Taliban hit or the government's aerial missiles hit as the war was intense at that time.

I think it was the second war in the region, after that it was always sporadic fighting. Our village was very good in every way before that, it was populated, peaceful, and green. But when Taliban captured the area, the village was not like it was in the past. Taliban were oppressing/harassing people and shopkeepers. Taliban were taking tithe based on the goods available in the shop. They charged every shop 10-15000Afn. There are many good grape gardens in our village, which produce a lot of grape every year. Grape is the main source of income of people in our village. Taliban takes tithes of these local products.

In my opinion, the incident was as a result of difference among the people. Some take the government's side and some the Taliban's side. Taliban has put a lot of pressure on the people and propagated against the government. When you go to the village nowadays, people praise the Taliban a lot. People are not united. These differences caused the area to collapse at the hand of the Taliban.

First the Taliban killed all elders, influential people, those who could read and write, or those who could speak in public. They would kill them either at night, or on their way to somewhere, or in the evening when they came out of the mosque, or when coming out of Friday prayer. They were killed everywhere. Now when you go to the village, there is not a single person left who can write or speak. Yes, they were killed in the first stage. Then, Taliban occupied the village themselves.

It has been almost ten years since we came here (Mazar City) to study. We only went for three months in winter and one month in summer because of holidays.

Currently, the mother, eldest daughter, and one of her sons live in our village, in Tebar. My uncle has taken his eldest son to Turkey to treat his eye, which was hurt by a Mullah.

Our only wish is peace and stabilization in the area. Nothing is more important than peace. When it is calm, you are fully healthy. Can you believe that when there is a war between the government and the Taliban, people leave their homes and properties? They can’t go back to the area for a long time. You know how much they would be harmed? How much they suffer? We only want peace, we don't want anything else.

I don't know whether the government is paying attention to the perpetrators of this incident or not. In my opinion, the government should pay attention to these kinds of issues, otherwise everyone will become indifferent to the government. The government starts a war for a short time, doesn't try to capture the area, then stops the war and leaves the area. Their operations must be successful. If they can’t do it, they should not do it at all. What is the point of such operations? Only civilians are killed in the war. There are no other results of their unsuccessful operations.

In this case, it is better that Taliban take the area, so that people don’t die in the war. As a citizen, I want the government to bring peace throughout the country. How long we are displaced and go from one region to another to protect our lives. We just want peace.

Taliban are very cruel people. People come from the village and tell us stories of Taliban bad behavior and cruelty.

You should wear Burqa there. Villagers say that Taliban made a pipe out of animal skin and filled it up with coins. When something is against their will, they whip the person in public. They have dangerous appearance. We cannot go out into the street. Most grown-ups have left the village and there are small people living in the community. If we go out of the house, we have to put on Chadari. For Taliban it makes no difference if you are a 12 or 15-year-old girl, everyone has to put on Chadari.

They allowed school only until the sixth grade, girls can’t go to school above the sixth grade. The situation is not good at all, people have to fulfill all Taliban expenses. They enter a mosque and say that tonight they are guests. People are poor. Those who were not poor have become poor and left the village. This is what the Taliban do.

My uncle had five children, two of them were martyred and three remain. His eldest daughter is about 16-years-old. She was a school student. She is not allowed to study anymore. His son Nurul Amin is almost 14-years-old. If children are going to school, they must wear white clothes and caps. School teachers are from the same area. They teach the children. My uncle has another daughter, her name is Nabila. She is married. It has been 16 years that she has lived in her own independent house.

My uncle was the only breadwinner of his family. He had a three tired motorcycle and a house of their own. The mental condition of the mother has not improved yet. She remembers her children, how can her mental state improve? She is withered and unwell and can't walk. She hasn't been able to walk for almost two years now. How can she forget such a heartbreaking incident where two of her children were martyred? Her mental state is very bad for now.

Her elder daughter is also not in a good state. If you call her ten times, she will not respond. She saw her brother in that situation and she witnessed her younger sister where the incident took place. She is not normal, she was also affected mentally.

Marhaba Jan was buried in the same area where her grandmother lived, and martyr Ahmad Sohail was buried in his own area.

As far as my memories are concerned, I have many sweet memories from my childhood. Because we all lived in the same village. We all gathered in one place in the evening. Sohail was a funny kid, he used to annoy us a lot, but the girl was calm. Whenever I stayed at their house, in the morning when I was sleeping - I liked this habit a lot - in the morning after the prayer call, if it was winter, she would bring warm water and wake me up to do my prayer. She paid a lot of attention to prayer and recited Quran very well.

At that age, she was very kind. She always used to wake me up in the morning when I was in their house. This was a good memory and I liked it. It is a custom that they give all their belongings to somebody. Marhaba Jan made a knitted dress for herself. I have brought that for the museum.

Bullets Had Struck His Back, Heart, And Lungs

Narrator: Nader (uncle)

Victim: Jamil Kohestani

Date of the incident: 23 July 2016

Location of the incident: Dehmazang, Kabul City

Jamil Kohestani was born in 1995 in Bamyan Province, Varas District, Kohestan Village. 8 years ago, him and his family traveled to Kabul to improve their living conditions. He has four sisters and no brother. One of his sisters is married and the rest are single. Their living conditions had been very bad since his childhood, and that's why they left their province and moved to Kabul. His father worked as a laborer because he had no land to cultivate. The martyr was helping his father. They rented this house for 4,500 AFN. After Jamil's martyrdom, they have not been able to pay the rent due to poverty and unemployment. They could not even heat one room. Jamil used to work after school and earned 100 AFN per day. He attended school up to 8th grade at Sartakht school in Varas District, then came to Kabul. In Varas, he used to go to the mountains after school to collect grass. In Kabul, he was working as a porter in Chowk. Sadness and poverty had caused us to remain busy with our own lives. He didn't share his feelings with me, but he did try hard to get an education. After graduating from school, he successfully enrolled in the Geology Department at Kabul University. This year, he was doing his third year and had just turned 21.

On the day of the demonstration, his father told him he did not consent to his participation in the demonstration, but he did not listen to his father and said we should all go to Dehmzang to demand our rights. “How much longer will we stay silent, watching others take away our rights?” he asked. That day, he left home alone. He took an exam and then he went to Dehmazang. His father was at our house at the time. After the suicide attack, one of his acquaintances called his father and asked where Jamil was. This acquaintance said there had been a suicide attack in Dehmazang. I was very sick that day. My niece called and said, “Jamil is injured.” I hurriedly left the house and tried to call Jamil, but his phone was turned off. At around 2:30, we left the house for Kot-e-Sangi. First, we went to Esteqlal Hospital, but he was not there. That day, we searched all the hospitals but we could not find him. The next day, they picked up his body from the 400-Bed Hospital. There did not appear to be too much damage to his body, but bullets had hit his back, heart, and lungs. For us, his martyrdom was a horrific tragedy; we have not forgotten it, and it broke our hearts. Following that incident, his father developed nervous problems and is always depressed.

I am not educated enough to do something for my brother's family; there are plenty of problems that Jamil's family is facing. When he was alive, he helped his family with the small amounts of money that he earned and he was a good support for his elderly parents. Due to poverty, his father, even though he is old, still has to work so that his family does not starve. He earns just 6,000 AFN a month. Due to severe economic problems, he has missed rent payments for several months. Jamil was a calm, good-natured, and kind young man. The local people loved him very much because he didn't hurt anyone. At home, he always helped his two younger sisters with their homework. He encouraged them to get an education and he himself did his best to do the same. He also loved football and played with his friends.

I have nothing more to say. I wish our leaders supported the families of the martyrs because some families of victims of this incident are going through very tough times; sometimes they don't even have enough to eat.

No statement

Because of the Severe Shock, He Completely Lost His Nerve

Narrator: Mohammad Reza Nazar (cousin)

Victim: Khodadad Karimi

Date of the incident: 23 July 2016

Location of the incident: Dehmazang, Kabul City

On the day of the demonstration, I was unable to go to Dehmzang due to my university exams. However, after finishing my exam, I decided to join my friends who were already there. Since I had a car, I drove towards Dehmazang. However, because of the large crowd, they did not allow me to cross the main road, so I tried to take a side road instead. As I began driving, I heard a loud explosion. It frightened me, so I immediately stopped the car.

People were running and I couldn't move my car. I left the car door open to be able to escape if the situation worsened. After two explosions, the sound of bullets gradually became silent. Some people were leaving the area while others returned to help the wounded and martyrs. I joined a group of people and we made our way to the explosion site. It was a terrible day, with many people injured and killed in Dehmazang Square. I tried contacting my friends to ensure they were safe, but some of their phones were switched off. To name one, Aref Shaygan's phone was off, and Mr. Mohammed Hossein Saramed did not answer my calls. The only person who responded was Mr. Jalil Tajlil. He arrived at Degmazang and together, we went to help the wounded. I took some of the injured to the hospital in my car. Later, I went to the hospital to visit one of my friends who was injured. At that point, I had no information about the martyrdom or injuries of Khodadad Karimi. A friend of mine called to inform us that two people from Patu had been martyred and were in Aliabad Hospital. At the time, I only knew about the martyrdom of Inayatullah Asil. It was only later that I found out that Arif Shaygan had also been seriously injured.

As I was about to head to the hospital in Aliabad, I received a call from an unknown number. The caller asked, "Who are you?" I was surprised and introduced myself. The caller then asked, "What is your relationship with Khudadad Karimi?" I replied, "He is my cousin." To verify my identity, the caller gave me his details. I became very worried and asked if something had happened to him. The caller replied, "Unfortunately, he has been martyred." I was shocked to hear this news and didn't know what to do. The only thing on my mind at that moment was that he was the sole breadwinner of his poor family, and I wondered what they would do now. Together with Khaliq Azad and other friends, we headed to Aliabad Hospital. I dropped them off and then went to Imam Ali Mosque.

When the incident occurred in Dehmazang, he was seriously injured. His friends took him first to Aliabad Hospital, but unfortunately, he was martyred soon after and later taken to the mosque. My mental state was terrible; I called all my friends and acquaintances to inform them of this tragic event.

We consulted with our other friends, and we decided that it was best to inform his family because his mother had already been informed that he was seriously injured. His mother had gone to the hospital herself, but his father was seriously ill and had not noticed his son's martyrdom due to his mental and emotional problems. Two days later, he found out that Khodadad had been martyred. When his father heard the news, he cried a lot and completely lost his nerve due to the shock.

Khodadad was the sole breadwinner of his family, and his siblings were young. Additionally, his father was already disabled. After his martyrdom, his two children were enrolled in Marefat High School and Pegah High School without paying any fees. According to a person who was with Khodadad when the incident happened, it was during lunchtime, and some people had gone to eat while others were sitting in the square and enjoying their lunch. Khodadad was standing when the explosion occurred. The two people who were sitting down were safe, but unfortunately, Khodadad was martyred and his body was severely damaged. As his family did not have the financial resources, we covered the expenses of his Fatiha and memorial ceremony.

No statement

No statement

He Became a Victim of The Injustice of Our Corrupt Government

Narrator: Salman Ali Haidari (father)

Victim: Javid Haidari

Date of the incident: 23 July 2016

Location of the incident: Dehmazang, Kabul City

My child was born in the village of Alghu-e Haidar in Jaghori District in Ghazni Province. Since childhood, my son has been very interested in getting an education. He was enrolled in and graduated from the Faiz Mohammad Kateb School in Jaghori District. Approximately five years ago, he started coming to Kabul for education. In the summer, he would go to Jaghori for his school programs, and in the winter, he would return to Kabul to prepare for the university entrance exam and learn English.

A man raises his child, having thousands of hopes and dreams, and struggles to help his kid achieve success, but his dreams and achievements can be shattered in the blink of an eye. It is very difficult for a person to lose his young child. One can only be patient and not protest God’s will.

He graduated from school last year and was successfully enrolled in the aviation department of the military university. My son’s enrollment in university was announced just a few days before the incident. He was informed he must register within three days to be allowed to attend classes. His university was located within the Kabul airport campus. Then the Dahmazang incident happened and shattered all my son’s dreams. I buried my youth.

He studied hard and dreamed of graduating from the military department and serving his people and country. My family and I moved to Kabul almost three years ago to live in tranquility with my son. In addition to his studies, he also played sports and was very fond of football. He was a sociable and well-mannered young man who participated in the Movement programs and believed in equal rights for people. Given the dire security situation, I forbade him from attending Movement meetings. He responded, “Dad, if I don’t take part and somebody else is afraid for their safety, who else will defend our rights and advocate for the oppressed?” On the day of the incident, I called Jawid at 11 o’clock, and updated him about Khalili and Mohaqeq’s withdrawal. I asked him where he was. He sounded sad, and said, “I am in Dehmazang, don’t worry about me, and please don’t call me again. I am fine, nothing will happen.”

Before the July 23rd demonstration, he would always say: “Hazaras are an oppressed and suffering community, and the government is trying to deny the rights of Hazaras. We shall not remain silent. We need to stand up and fight for the rights of our people.” In response, I said those words were precious to me, but in this country, to seek one’s rights comes at the cost of one’s life, so he would do better to look after his own life and his education, and avoid putting himself in harm’s way. But he insisted and said, “Dad, it doesn’t matter if our problems are not addressed today. Maybe the next generations will benefit from our advocacy and action because they will, at least, realize that we fought for justice.”

Some time ago, I spoke with my son and said we wanted to select a good girl for him to marry and start his life. He told me, “Dad, now is not the right time, I have many plans, and I had better address my personal and educational problems first.” All he was concerned about was education, but he became a victim of the injustice of our corrupt government. I gave my young son to the earth and to God. As long as I live, this sorrow will not be lifted from my heart.

Shrapnel Was Lodged Deep in his Head

Narrator: Fatema Gholami (spouse)

Victim: Naeem Gholami

Date of the incident: 23 July 2016

Location of the incident: Dehmazang, Kabul City

My name is Fatema Gholami, the wife of the martyr Gholami. He was 35 years old in 2016. In 2007, I graduated high school in Panjab District of Bamyan Province. In 2012, I married Gholami. My husband was 35 years old when he was killed.

When Naeem [Gholami] returned to his hometown from Iran, he started working with a civil construction company. In 2012, we were married in Panjab District and later we moved to Kabul. Two months before our wedding, Gholami rented a house with three bedrooms.

Gholami had studied engineering and worked in Iran as a civil engineer. Shortly after our marriage, he got a civil engineering job in the Aga Khan’s office and moved to Sare-Pol. However, not long after starting this position, two motorcycle riders took him out of a minivan while on his way from a project site to his residence. Armed men kidnaped him. They asked us for one hundred thousand US dollars. The Aga Khan’s office contributed fifty-thousand dollars, and we arranged the other half [of the ransom money], and Gholami was released.

That first morning, he purchased many things for breakfast for our kids. I prepared breakfast. His son and daughter were sitting on his lap, and Gholami was putting a bite of everything he ate in their mouth. After breakfast, he ironed his clothes and took a shower. After bathing and dressing, he stood in front of the full-length mirror in our room and oiled his hair, combed it, and used perfume. He got ready, kissed his children, said goodbye to us, and left the house.

I was not able to organize the clothing or the house that day. I don’t know why but I was in a strange mood from morning to night. When after lunch my children fell asleep, I thought I might watch TV, but then I said no. I was bored, and the kids were sleeping. It was 1:30pm, when my children woke up. I turned on the TV, and news of the demonstration and suicide attack in Dehmazang was everywhere. I kept calling Gholami, but his cell phone was off. I had to call my brother and tell him that Gholami’s phone was switched off. He said, “No worries, there may be a problem [with his phone].” I then remembered that his phone was not charged. I waited a long time and tried to call everyone I could think of, but got no more information. Then night came. I went to buy bread and ran towards the mosque. I prayed in the mosque for my beloved husband to be found.

My children were left unattended at home. One of my brothers came home to stay with them, and I went again to the mosque. My other brothers were searching for Gholami from one o’clock to the next day. They had searched through all the hospitals. My family in Bamiyan kept calling to check whether my husband had been found. My brother said, “I will look in the 400-bed hospital.” As soon as my brother mentioned that, I felt disheartened, and my left arm and leg suddenly became paralyzed.

My brother asked me, “Did he wear embroidered clothes?” “Yes,” I said. He asked, “Was there a scarf around his neck?” “Yes,” I said. My brother said he thought he saw his body several times, but had not recognized him. He said the body looked like the body of a young boy, even though Gholami’s face and body were not badly damaged. They had attached a label with the name Mohammad Ewaz to the body. He had severe injuries on his back and head. Shrapnel had gone deep into his head, and his back was very badly damaged.

My brother called me again and said Gholami had been found in the 400-bed hospital but was injured. I told him to stay there, and I would come too, but my brother sternly replied, “No, stay at home; come later.” I was at home, and my other brother, who had his own house, and my sister came to our house. They said my husband was seriously injured and I had to go with them to their house.

When we arrived at my brother’s house, it was calm, and everything seemed different. I was in my brother’s guest room but was feeling restless. I told them someone should look after my children, as I was going to the hospital to see Engineer [Gholami]. They said I should stay at home because my children were too young to be left alone. Finally, I realized with sadness that Gholami had been martyred. My family had bathed martyr Gholami in the Mosalla [congregational mosque] and had taken him to the hill where martyrs of the “Enlightenment Movement” were buried. He had decided to go and take part in the demonstration of the Enlightenment Movement but had not informed me just to make sure I would not be worried. He was tired of the injustices. He had also participated in Tabasom Movement.

He Was Hit in The Throat

Narrator: Layeqa

Victim: Mohammad Hussain

Date of the incident: 24 October 2020

Location of the incident: District 13, Kabul City, Pul-e Khoshk, Dasht-e Barchi, Kausar Danesh Educational Center

My name is Layeqa, 21. My father's name is called Chaman Ali. My surname is Ahmadi. I quit school in 10th grade. I don't work. I was born in Maidan Wardak, Daimirdad District, in the village of Zardag. Mohammad Hussain was my brother. He was 18-years-old when he was killed. He was single. It was his last year of school, twelfth grade. He was a student. He, too, was born in Daimirdad. I am Hazara. It happened on 24th October 2020 at Kawsar Educational Center.

We didn't know about the explosion at all, we were at home when people said that there was an explosion in Kawsar Danesh Center, then, my older brother came, he was outside... My brother is four years older than me. You could see on his face that he was terrified. He came through the gate of our house. My mother was upstairs, we were downstairs. My brother took off his jacket and gave it to me. I asked him where he was going, and he said, "I am going to Kawsar Danesh, there has been an explosion, I want to look for Mohammad Hussain..." I did not even think that Mohammad Hussain could have been injured.

My brother left the house. Ten minutes had passed when my other older brother came back and asked if Nazer had come home and where was he. I answered that Nazer Hussain had gone to the site of the explosion at Kawsar Danesh... He, too, ran outside to follow him. We kept waiting, hoping Mohammad Hussain would come home at any moment... I went upstairs. Seeing my face, my mother was frightened and asked, "Why are you like this?" I tried to reassure her, and asked her whether Mohammad Hussain had come home. She said not yet... he should be coming soon, maybe he was on his way. She knew nothing at all. We waited. Finally, my elder brother called to check if Mohammed Hussain had come home via Qala-e Naw. There are two alleys. He was hoping he had come through another alley, but I said no. So, we kept calling each other to see if Mohammad Hussain was found.

I think it was four o'clock. We were scattered. Finally, the night came. It was very dark. My uncle was praying. My older brother had called him to say there had been an explosion and unfortunately, we lost Mohammad Hussain. My uncle panicked, his face showed he was terrified, and he went out. I said, "Where are you going?" He replied, “They say Mohammad Hussain is injured.” He said he did not understand it but he was told to go there. Anyway, he left but didn't tell us more, but he had told my brother's wife to tidy up the house. They had already heard about the news. We were thinking about it, my poor mother was screaming, she became worried after my uncle left the house. She was screaming and calling Mohammad Hussain’s name... Anytime someone was knocking on the door, she thought it was Mohammad Hussain. I kept going upstairs and downstairs, looking through the window, hoping they would come from this or that side. My mother was restless, she was screaming. We were upstairs when an ambulance came.

Later, his classmate explained that he had been sitting in the front row on the day of the incident. They said that before that day, he would never sit in the first row, but he sat there on that day.

My older brother visited Watan Hospital first, then went to Alami Hospital in Pol-e-Khoshk. He had also searched inside the Educational Center, and people there had told him he was taken to Ali Jinah Hospital, and he was found there. It was hard to find him. My poor brother was very distressed, he has suffered too much. We lost our father twelve years ago. Finally, they found Mohammad Hussain in Ali Jinah Hospital and brought him home. When they found his name, it was on the martyrs’ list. They had initially checked the wounded list, but his name was not there. Then, they checked the martyrs’ list and found his name. I was told he had been shot in the throat; I don’t know where... I didn't see it at all. Neither did I ask my older brother about it, nor did he talked about it. He was shot in his throat and was bleeding seriously. He had been martyred on the spot. I don’t know, maybe my brothers have asked [about the perpetrators of the attack]. People say it was ISIS.

My brother Mohammad Hussain was just studying, but I don't remember when we moved to Kabul from Maidan Wardak Province. We can no longer go to our place, as its now ruined. People have taken the house beams; there is no more house.

We were three brothers, one of whom was martyred, two of us remained; now, we are two sisters and two brothers. We were in shock and our relatives did not allow us to see the corpse. He was laid to rest where we live. My mother was suffering from high cholesterol. She has now developed high blood pressure. She gets sad and her blood pressure rises. When she is at home, she screams, cries and talks to herself. She has developed a mental disorder.

Employ Every Possible Means to Save My Child

Narrator: Mahdi Valizada (father)

Victim: Rohullah Qayyumi

Date of Incident: 24 Oct 2020

Location of Incident: District 13, Kabul City, Pul-e Khokh, Dasht Barchi, Kausar Danesh Educational Center

My name is Mohammad Mahdi, the father of martyr Ruhollah Qayoumi, who lost his life in the incident at Kawsar Danesh. On the occasion of Ruhollah's martyrdom, I would like to share some details about his life. In the beginning, he attended school in Daimirdad Zimeni Village of Jalriz District in Maidan Wardak Province. He attended Ismail Khel School. Our village is called Daimirdad Zimeni. However, due to frequent conflicts between the Taliban and the government, his education was disrupted. Until security checkpoints were installed, he would attend school for some days but would miss it for several more days. Looking at the situation, I concluded he would not benefit from schooling there. Despite going through tough economic conditions, I transferred my two kids – Marty Rohullah and Moqtada – to Tamadon, a private school. They studied there for several years. While Moqtada graduated and enrolled in university, Rohullah decided to pursue 12th grade at a public school.

Rohullah attended Abdur Rahim Shahid school and wanted to enroll in tuition centers. Then, the [COVID-19] quarantine began. He moved to Behsud. For a period of two or three months, he worked at a bee farm alongside his brother. They had a bee farm in Behsud. When the quarantine measures were lifted and tuition centers resumed teaching, he returned and enrolled in a center. We never asked him about the timing or location of his studies. He said he attended two or three centers. He would take different classes at different hours and would go to the library afterward. He would study in the library; I had no idea about that. He would leave home in the morning and only return by evening. I asked him once, "You leave early in the morning without having breakfast, do you take lunch?" He replied that he did not. I insisted, "No, I won't allow you to study on an empty stomach. It's not good to be harsh with yourself."

So, I visited the market, accompanied by his sister. We purchased a lunch box for him. I wanted to buy a food container for him so that he could take a portion of the dinner the next morning, ensuring he had something to eat throughout the day. He would frequently visit this market, as one of his classmates, Martyr Mahdi, held a stall there. He was making a lot of effort; he would often urge me to work together. He used to say, “You worked hard for me; I want to become self-reliant.” He was getting an education. Apart from the quarantine period when he worked with his brother on the bee farm in the second part of Behsud, he did not engage in any other work. He graduated from Tamadon School that same year and moved there to take tuition courses in this center. I didn't visit this place since I work as a driver and had no knowledge of his study location. He would come home in the evening. In the mornings, he sometimes had breakfast before attending his classes. I never saw him wandering around in the streets.

He came to study at Kausar Danesh, and one day... two or three days ago, called to say his nephew had brought some mung beans from Behsud. Three days ago, he called me and asked, "Where is Aman? I need to go see him to receive the beans.” I told him, "Go to Shohada intersection, Bikh Tepe Market, get his number, and call him." That was his last call until today. Eventually, I went to Dareh Souf. It was around evening in Dareh Souf and I was standing with my friends in an area called Pesh-e Hamam. They knew what had happened. My nephew was with me; he was informed of the attack on the education center. Someone had called him. I was preparing dinner and chatting with my friend. I was eating and talking but food remained in the bowl. He never touched the food. I was unaware of the events. I was at the tire mechanic shop for dinner. After the dinner, they all said, "Let's go to Peshe Hamam.” It was very cold. Once in Peshe Hamam, I parked the vehicle facing the wall. I told them it was warm and we had to sleep there and get on the road the next morning. My nephew turned around in front of me and opened the door. I got mad at him and criticized him for his driving style. He got into the car. At the same moment, the night guard came and asked for the fee.

I noticed that my nephew was looking unwell. He paid my fee, looked up at me, and said, "Uncle..." He explained that there had been a suicide explosion at Rohullah’s tuition center. His words shook me to the core. I asked him, “Where is my child? Is he okay?" He replied, "No, he's injured, he's wounded.” I called my brother, Dr. Amin, to ask what was going on. He told me that Rohullah was injured and had been transferred to Imam Zaman Hospital. My mind stopped working. I told him, “Brother, employ every means possible to save my child." I told him I would give away all my possessions to ensure my child received treatment. I immediately headed towards Kabul at night. The phone signal was completely lost. I made it here.

I needed to head straight to Kabul, but it was already 9 pm, and there were no cars in this remote place. My nephew, a friend, and I started calling people to find a car. They finally found one.

There are two routes, one of which passes through the Taliban-controlled area. At this time of night, the Taliban might cause trouble. Another option is to go through Dare Souf and then Sheikh. We traveled through Kotel Qaraei and arrived at Bazar Sokhta. It was between midnight and one o'clock in the morning when we arrived there. When we reached Bazar Sokhta, we got another car at midnight, and we arrived in Mazar-Sharif. From Mazar-Sharif, we boarded a Corolla and made our way to Kabul.

When the calls came in from Kabul, they didn't reach me directly. Instead, they spoke to my cousin. As we were en-route, they repeatedly called to inquire about our whereabouts. Eventually, we arrived at Kotal-e Khairkhana. However, upon assessing the heavy traffic congestion, we decided to change, took a detour through Paghman, and eventually arrived in Kampany, where our house is located.

As I entered the front yard, I was taken aback to see my son lying beneath the tree. At that moment, I couldn't understand my surroundings. My other sons approached me and embraced me. Then, his uncle arrived. I noticed the condition of his feet. I hugged him, but I couldn't recall what happened afterward. One of my children picked me up. I was in pieces. Ruhollah's leg had been badly hurt, and his head sustained significant injuries. His body and face remained intact but were marked by numerous shrapnel wounds.

My cousin, Mr. Zamani, suggested going to Martyrs' Hill. My brothers, too, suggested burying Ruhollah on the Martyrs' Hill. But I wanted Ruhollah to be buried with his grandfathers, all buried in Maidan. I wanted to take my child to Maidan, but the route to Maidan was closed. So, we decided to go off the main road and took his body to Maidan.

So, that is how I received the news. I had never seen Kausar Danesh, its whereabouts, and where he studied. The incident here, I don’t know how and when it happened. I don’t recall the exact time or date of the incident. We took the body to Maidan and buried it there.

I have three sons and one daughter. I am 44-years-old. Ruhollah's mother has foot pain and a herniated disc. He was 19-years-old. At that age, he would wake up at night to massage his mother's feet when she was in pain. He was so kind. I used to get up [and ask him] what he was doing, and he would reply that his mother's foot was hurting. He would continue massaging until ten o'clock at night. Ruhollah's remarkable behavior will forever remain in our hearts.

He would stay up until midnight or even later to study, with his cup of tea and a book by his side. We would tell him to eat his food, he would say ok, he would eat it later. He would take a sip from his cup and resume studying. He was not the kind of boy wandering in the streets.

He had awareness of everything around him and courageously continued his studies in Maidan. He was not facing threats in Maidan. Our neighborhood, in the Jalriz district, consists of 30 houses of Hazara people. There is a group of Pashtun people living around us. Ruhollah had courage and in his studies, showed great talent, surpassing his brothers. The poor boy studied there until the sixth or seventh grade before he had to come to Kabul.

He was properly taught in grades six or seven. One day, the institute teacher summoned me during biannual exams and expressed concerns about his academic progress. I explained that it was not his fault; the ongoing war had disrupted his education, and Ruhollah would miss a month of classes. With great determination, he advanced his studies and enrolled in the Abdul Rahim Shahid School. Attending the educational center was the culmination of his relentless hard work.

He expressed a strong desire to become independent. One of his remarkable aspirations was to alleviate his mother's severe leg pain. He would say, "Mother, no matter what happens, I will be your doctor. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." Every morning at five o'clock, he would leave home, hungry and thirsty, and return by five o'clock at the end of the day. Tragically, on the day he was martyred, none of us were present at home, except for his uncles; his brothers were in Maidan where they were stranded because of road closures. His uncles, relatives, and friends gathered and took his body home. None of us were here.

Now, I am constantly on the lookout, and when the time comes for me to return home, I find myself reluctant to do so. This reveals the immense difficulty I face in living without Ruhollah, this is particularly the case for his mother. Even now, at home, I repeatedly reassure her that everything happened according to God's will and that it was his destiny to become a martyr. However, she cannot fully accept it; all her thoughts continue to revolve around him. She points to her fingers and remarks that although they may be different, they are still the same, just like our children. She reminisces about how he used to wake up and massage her feet. I can't recall ever waking up to massage my own mother's feet. If you saw my eldest child, you would notice his posture is hunched over; his sister also appears hunched, and Ruhollah's mother even more so. We have become consumed by thoughts of him, and all other matters have faded away. In the evenings, when it gets late, our eyes remain fixed on the door, eagerly awaiting Rohullah's return. He was a young man filled with patience. When his older brother was getting angry, he would remind him, "Our parents too are human beings with souls; you can do it yourself." He never issued commands to others; instead, he was a patient and understanding child.

I faced significant financial constraints. Despite the scorching heat, my son would walk from Bagh Dawood in Kampany to Tamadon school because we couldn't afford to buy him a bicycle. In those challenging circumstances, I raised him but unfortunately, heartless oppressors deprived him of his life. Our economic situation was incredibly fragile, to the extent that even purchasing a bicycle was beyond our means. I chose to send my children to Tamadon school because I believed they would receive a better education compared to public schools. I am grateful to his excellent teachers, and may God bless them for their encouragement and support. He continued to achieve greater success over time. Within the educational center, he stood out as one of the top-performing students in his class. His determination and courage were remarkable, but tragically, God took him away from us. Ruhollah had a distinctive approach to his studies. He would not lose focus or engage in leisure activities and remained dedicated to his education.

He would often say, "Dad, I can't express enough how much you've done for us." Let me share another story. He had an uncle who was killed during the attack on the Enlightenment Movement rally. That uncle had left the university to go home, but then he decided to join the protest. He took part in the Enlightenment Movement rally. At that time, he was a second-year student in the Computer Science faculty. Rohullah had a strong affection for his uncle and had a close bond with him, unlike others who only showed superficial love for their uncles. His uncle's name was Shafiqullah Zamani, and he was martyred during the attack in Demazang.

One day, as we sat together at home, he gazed at his uncle's picture and asked me, "Dad, my uncle was so... will anyone else reach this level?" It was a memorable moment. It was his fate to become martyred. He believed that not everyone could attain such a noble position, as to be martyred. I heard him saying that. And he attained that position himself.

His mother is not feeling well due to back pain. She stays indoors for twenty-four hours. We have a little child named Muslim. Since Ruhollah's martyrdom, he no longer sits in the yard. My older son stays with his mother for a maximum of two days and then calls me, saying he can't stay any longer. His mother remains in mourning and sadness, her thoughts always filled with memories of Ruhollah. I remind her that everything that comes from God. He sacrificed his life for the sake of God. He was an innocent student who became a martyr, a privilege granted to only a few. However, the weight of this grief is heavy upon us. It's particularly challenging for his mother because I am away. Whenever I return home, I find her gazing at his photos on the wall. We have a basement and an upper floor, but I don't let her spend too much time there. My children have mobile phones, and sometimes I ask them to show me photos of Rohullah. However, they have hidden them and don't show them to his mother. Ruhollah's absence is a profound and enduring pain for all of us.

Until this day, no government institution has reached out to us or offered any condolences. We have visited the educational center multiple times, hoping to establish a memorial for our children. However, our requests have gone unanswered. As the father of the martyr Ruhollah, I have not received any communication or support from the government. It is disheartening to see how little value human life holds in present-day Afghanistan. Look at the martyrs of Sayed ul-Shohada, they seem to have been forgotten. They treat us as if our children did not exist. I want to talk about the safety measures at this educational center. Why was there negligence? Why didn't they ensure security in the first place? Are there any security cameras? What really concerns me is that there is no public access road and you can see the suicide bomber easily reaching the center of this alley. How did they allow him to reach the middle of the alley? We are deeply upset about this. Who is to blame for this indifference? Is it the students, the teachers, or the government? We feel let down. After the incident, the educational center put up barriers. They are well-known, but they didn't learn from the Mawud Center incident. They were aware of the high risk. And now they have dug trenches. What is the purpose of this? It doesn't alleviate people's pain. Now we plead with the government to ensure our security.

Those responsible must be apprehended and held accountable for their actions. There is something suspicious going on, and it is clear to everyone in Afghanistan, including you and me. We strongly advocate for justice to be served, no matter how much time passes or how the government changes. We will persist in our pursuit of justice until the end. If justice is not served, our only choice is to be patient and trust in God.

It would bring us great relief if we could have a memorial in the right location, a place where we can find solace and ease our pain. Our children sacrificed their lives here, their blood was shed. We desperately need something to remember them by, to honor their bravery. The martyrs of Kawsar Danesh must always be remembered, be it through a monument, a minaret, or even a library. We humbly request the government to provide us with a plot of land where we can establish a library. Our hearts ache with sorrow, as we have lost our beloved children, and a part of our souls remains shattered. We seek a place that can bring solace to our wounded hearts. This memorial will serve as a lasting tribute to their memory. Regrettably, both the government and the educational center have neglected our pleas. We value education and knowledge, and we appreciate the efforts of teachers, but they have not addressed our needs thus far. They have made promises to us, but those promises remain unfulfilled.

We yearn for our martyrs to be remembered, and we plead for the construction of a memorial in their honor. We implore the authorities to allocate a location at any cost, to collaborate with us, so that we can establish either a library or a memorial that will eternally preserve their memory. This is our heartfelt desire, and we ask for nothing more.

I Called Him Fifty Times; He Did Not Pick Up His Phone

Narrator: Zeba Zafari (sister)

Victim: Mahdi Zafari

Date of the incident: 24 October 2020

Location of the incident: District 13, Kabul City, Pul-e Khoshk, Dasht-e Barchi, Kawsar Danesh Educational Center

In the name of God

My name is Zeba Zafari and my father's name is Allah Bakhsh. We come from Maidan Wardak Province, Hesa-e Awal in Behsud, Oba village. I am 19 years old, a 10th-grade night shift student at Abdur Rahim Shahid School. I was born in Iran; I was three years old when we returned to Afghanistan. I don't work alongside my studies as I married two years ago, and I dont yet have children. For the moment, I'm studying and preparing for the university entrance exam.

We live in Barchi, in the "Doghabad" area. My house is there and my father's house is in "Mahdia" town. The Martyr was our elder brother, I am the second child, and my other brothers are younger than me. I have one sister, and three other brothers, besides my martyred brother, Mahdi.

Our family’s financial situation is not good; our only breadwinner is my father. Thank God, we have a large family. Mahdi was working as an apprentice in a mechanical shop and was paid five hundred or so per week. The year he finished school, he decided to prepare for the university entrance exam for a year or two, hoping he would get good results afterward. He was very skilled in mechanical and electrical work. He didn’t feel hopeful about the world, he studied for eight months. in less than four months after that, he was martyred.

[Mahdi] was born in 1999 in Iran. I don't know in which city, but we lived mostly in Tehran and Isfahan, my mother's three children were born in Iran, following which we returned to Afghanistan. My three brothers and one sister were born here (in Afghanistan).

When we returned from Iran, we lived in a rented house for a few years. As it was difficult in Afghanistan financially, my father went back to Iran to work and earn money. My brother worked very hard. He used to sell ice cream. Even though his earnings were little, he continued working. He used to sell chewing gum and did odd jobs. He used to work and attend school at the same time. As we were very poor, we did not have water or bread. Mahdi and I used to go to take out water from wells. These were his major responsibilities at home. He used to work in an automobile repair shop, selling ice cream or chewing gum. My father spent his salary on this house. He bought a mobile phone for himself. Mahdi said he needed a mobile phone and a computer if he had to study. Last year, he studied but his fate was to be martyred.

<>pHis academic performance was very good up to the sixth grade. Later, he quarreled with a teacher who then failed him three years in a row. He was discouraged but attended school up to 12th grade. He still performed well but the teacher’s attitude made him lose his interest.

My cousin encouraged him to go and study, saying that studying is useful and that labor jobs will not work for long. So, he decided to study and prepare for the entrance exam. My happy memory of him is when I got first place in the class, he would cheer me on even though he didn't study. He used to pay for my tuition with his weekly income.

Because he was working, he couldn't attend school where he had to study for four or five hours every day. So, he transferred his application to the night shift school at Abdul Rahim Shahid. He used to go there. In the year when he decided to prepare for the entrance exam, he said, "I will take care of my studies well, so I don't need to attend school in person." He discussed the matter with his [school] principal and said he would visit the school twice a week to show up for attendance. The rest of his time was spent in the preparation center, from morning to evening.

His favorite field of study was electrical engineering because he was very good at electrical work. When he was at home, he installed the wiring system of the house. Interestingly, before he was killed, he had made a loudspeaker at home; it is still there.

I was at the market, it was 3.30 pm when I heard a sound, I thought it was a vehicle tire that had exploded; it was far away. Then when I went home, I saw people near our house talking to each other, I asked them what had happened, and they said an explosion had happened in that center... near the Alimi Clinic. I instantly remembered that my brother was studying there. I called him, I must have called him fifty times, but he did not pick up his phone. I remember well that I called fifty times, but he didn't answer. My mother has a neurological disorder, she suffers from seizures. I didn't want to call her. I called my dad; he was at work and he said he did not know anything. He went home and I said Mother should better not know.

I hoped my brother Mahdi might pick up his phone. No matter how many times I called him, no one answered the phone. My elder brother-in-law has a bakery. He returned home after he had transported the wounded and martyrs from the attack. When I saw his car bloodied, I was shocked and scared. They said nothing had happened to my brother. This made me suspicious, so I called my little brother. He said Mahdi was missing and my cousins were looking for him. A few minutes later, they called and said they had found Mehdi, he was just wounded, and his arm was injured. A few minutes later, I called my dad. My dad said his arm was injured and I asked to speak to my brother. Suddenly my father got emotional. I didn't understand it, I thought it might be because of other injured people.

I called my mother; she was unwell and had not been allowed to go see my brother. They kept me unaware until the next day.

They woke me up early in the morning and said, "Your mother had a seizure; they have taken her to the hospital. You should go to stay with your brothers." I prayed quickly and joined my sister-in-law and mother-in-law and got in the car. I thought they come with me because I was alone and it was still dark. When we arrived there, I saw a group of people, and my mother and I realized that we had lost Mahdi. Both of us passed out and regained consciousness by noon and saw my brother's body. I passed out again and woke up by 2 pm. <..long silence..>

I live away from my family, so, this doesn't affect me as much. But it is very difficult for my mother since she lives beside my brother’s belongings, photos, and boots. She has suffered greatly. Her hair has turned gray, and grief has worsened her neurological disorders. My mother is 37 or 38 years old, and due to our economic situation, we have not been able to provide proper treatment.

We have visited shrines, as recommended, but this has not helped. We do not usually let her attend gatherings to keep her mind calm; we don’t let her go to the mosque. When we are at a party, I make sure she doesn’t talk too much with people to avoid further mental disturbance.

When my little brothers say they dreamed [about Mahdi] and tell my mother such stories, she gets a headache and seizure. She is mostly alone, there is no other adult to help her in case of seizures. My younger brothers are now afraid of my mother, as she doesn't understand things as a result of her many seizures. God forbid, she becomes a madwoman.

Even my younger brothers are developing mental health problems. When I left to go to school, they asked me not to go as I might get killed as Mahdi did. They are very young, six or seven-year-old kids. Despite their young age, they have lost interest in school, and have never been to school.

I later learned in more detail what had happened on that terrible day of the 24th of October. My cousin was also preparing for the University entrance exams and was attending the same center as my brother. That day, my cousin and brother had lunch together, prayed, and went to the educational center. My cousin had forgotten his ID card and so went to the Iqra" library, while my brother went to the center, and was caught in the suicide attack. The attack happened at the gate of the school. The center would allow students to go out in groups of 20 people. It did not happen when the first batch came out. It happened when the second batch stepped out, including my brother. The suicide attack took place against the second batch of students. Sixty people were martyred and many more were wounded.

My cousin heard the explosion and later found my brother and took him to the hospital. They had then called my father. He was initially taken to Ali Jinnah Hospital, but as it was not well equipped for surgeries, Mahdi was transferred to the emergency hospital. There were so many dead and wounded and not enough doctors to attend to patients at Ali Jinnah. If he had been immediately taken to a hospital where he could be treated properly, he might have survived.

Mahdi must have been close to the explosion as his eyebrows, and his hair was completely burnt, and his face was wounded. He had been alive for a few minutes [after the explosion] and was still breathing until he was transferred to these two hospitals. He had lost a lot of blood and sustained a deep shrapnel wound to his heart, he did not survive. Doctors explained that the shrapnel caused serious damage and made his heart stop.

According to my cousins, when we lost my brother - he was my father's eldest son - my father put his handkerchief in his mouth and screamed a lot. My father does not want us to know his feelings as my mother gets nervous. My father has been impacted; he is always at work and is busy with people, so it may not be too difficult for him, although I have not seen it myself.

ISIS took responsibility for the attack, but nobody from the government came to visit us. The government gives one hundred thousand or two hundred thousand Afs to families of martyrs, and fifty thousand Afs to those who are wounded. That is it. I think they made a list based on the information provided by the educational center. They then called and [my father received the money]. Well, what can I say about the government that kills and then gives out money?

I don’t know if Kawsar Danesh Educational Center held a Fatiha ceremony for the martyrs but they did commemorate the 40th day after the attack.

Mahdi was the kindest among us in the family. He worked with my other cousin and a cousin of ours was his classmate. We all grew up together, and we never witnessed him quarreling or fighting with others. He was fond of electrical work. At home, he liked creating things, he even made a cooler at home. He was loved by our family. When he was martyred, our relatives gathered and made him a beautiful tomb because they loved him very much.

They didn't say anything [about why the negligence happened and the suicide attack took place]. I used to go to a sewing class, next to that center. Before the suicide bombing happened, they did not have the means to keep the place secure. There was only one policeman, and he didn't search people properly. After the suicide attack happened and people were injured and killed, they put in place more security. Now, they do a comprehensive inspection and don't let people in without ID cards. I didn't go to the center. After Kausar Danesh announced the families of martyrs could have one student free of tuition, I attended their classes for almost three months, but since the quarantine was imposed, I haven't been there. Schools are also closed due to quarantine.

Our only wish is for peace to come in Afghanistan; it is very insecure. And then, my father, talked to leaders a few times, but they think of their interests, not the interest of the people. We have no expectations from the government because it has never listened to this nation, and have not acted based on people’s demands. If peace comes, we can live peacefully. If we don't have money, we can, at least, live in peace and earn a piece of bread. We currently live in a tough situation. when I go somewhere, to our aunt's house or the market, we are not sure whether we will come back alive or dead because the security is very bad. Furthermore, the family members of the victims of this attack suffer in their mental health.

First, it is the government's fault, it should secure the borders and not let anyone into this country, and there would never be such destruction and misery in Afghanistan. Maybe this government is involved in it. Yes, we want peace [at any price]. Peace should bring people safety. It means women should no longer have to stay at home like in the old days.

I do not have much hope. I have told my husband several times to leave, what are we going to do here? In some years, when we have children, and they go to school, we will always be worried until they return home. I suggested we should leave, but he refused. With the difficult situation we have gone through, I have lost hope. I wish peace would come. [My husband] is a close relative of mine. [He is someone who encourages me to study].

I am very interested in school; I want to be able to answer the questions of my children when they grow up. In the past, when mothers could not read, they were unable to understand issues. They would not let their daughters study in some places, thinking that is a bad place. Going to school, at least, gives us the ability to think and understand things, understand society.

I am very interested in Law. God willing, I will be able to study it. I want to raise the voice of my brother who was martyred. Why are these people so indifferent, especially those who work in this government? Such indifference does not help in this country; we are losing our loved ones. I want their voices to be heard. The joy of my life is to live a peaceful life so that I can take care of myself and my children and help my mother live in peace. I don't wish for anything special.

His Hands Were Burnt, His Face Was Burnt

Narrator: Shafiqa Ahmadi (mother) and Bibi Fatima (aunt)

Victim: Sayed Hadi Musavi

Date of the incident: 24 October 2020

Location of the incident: District 13, Kabul City, Pul-e Khoshk, Dasht-e Barchi, Kausar Danesh Educational Center

My family name is Ahmadi, and my name is Bibi Shafiqa. My husband's name is Musavi. I'm 42-years-old, born in Kabul Province, right here in Barchi. We currently live in Barchi, Pul-e Khoshk. Tragically, my son was martyred. His name was Sayed Hadi Musavi, and he had just turned 19-years-old in August. He was studying at Kawsar educational center, preparing for the university entrance exam.

It was around 4:30 p.m., twenty-five minutes before 5:00 p.m., when my son Hadi hurriedly asked for food as he was late. After hastily eating, he left the house. I was sitting idle when I heard the boom of an explosion. Panic ensued as people wondered where the suicide bombing had occurred. They said it was on the main road, at Barchi Center. Meanwhile, my other son was at the market buying groceries, and my daughter-in-law was at our house. She screamed and said, “Aunty, aren't your kids at the educational center?” As soon as the center was mentioned, I understood, and my heart shattered.

My son ran ahead, followed by his aunt, and then me. We reached the gate of the Kawsar educational center, but the police wouldn't let us go further. Frantically, I ran back home to fetch my mobile phone, and upon returning, I was informed that Hadi had been injured and taken to Alemi Hospital. Unaware of the severity of his condition, I rushed to the hospital.

It was only later I learned that Hadi had been transferred to the emergency hospital and had succumbed to his injuries. The doctors informed us that he had lost 90% of his blood, leaving little chance of survival. Subsequently, the doctors requested Hadi’s father to come and take his body home. Amidst the chaos, we realized the devastating truth: Hadi had been martyred. Oh, the agony... his body was severely burned and torn apart, with shrapnel wounds scattered across him.

Hadi has two brothers, born within short intervals. They attended school together from grade one to grade twelve. He was about to enroll in the same center as Hadi that day when the attack happened. He was walking up to the street corner when he heard the explosion. He ran and saw his brother's dead body, martyred, and he was extremely terrified. He took his brother to the hospital with the help of his other brothers. Now, he suffers from deep depression and says he won't study anymore. My son has been emotionally devastated by this.

Since the incident, life has been difficult. May God not show that day to anyone. My daughters are scared and my sons feel even worse. We have cried so desperately, but this has not brought Hadi back to us. His poor father works labor jobs; he's a driver. He drives on the Mazār route, but there is currently no work as the Taliban are not allowing vehicles to pass, and the poor drivers' hearts bleed.

Sayed Hadi would sometimes help with the house expenses and took care of his own needs too. He would contribute 100-200 AFN weekly, as he also worked as a mechanic in Barchi. The economic situation after Sayed Hadi left is not bad, and we are not complaining to God about our economic situation. But one of my sons has been taken by the government on some false accusations, and we don't know where he is. It's been three months since he was taken away, and we don't understand. The national security took him. Where was this God damn security division 40 when the attack on the educational center happened?

The little belongings left, his stuff, he loved football and sports, I'll bring his old stuff to leave here as memories. There should be accountability for the blood of poor people. I heard that Leon was behind the attack. Our government holds them accountable; it would be good. May God hold the government accountable. How can the government help us when it can’t fix itself. It sits comfortably in the palace, in a safe place. How does it care about the grief of the poor, whether they have food to eat, or are killed, martyred, or injured? Their place is good, their food is good, they enjoy all the comfort. What do they care about the poor people's hearts? What can we say to them?

The son was engaged; he had dreams. We had him engaged in Iran with his cousin's daughter, and she is still in Iran. Oh God. It's been two years since his engagement. This coming Nowruz, we were going to have his wedding. He wanted to finish his studies before getting married. The government asked no questions, and nobody came to see us. There is no accountability for poor people. Only the media said that the martyrs would be remembered in history, that's it.

My name is Bibi Fatima, and I’m Sayed Hadi's aunt. Hadi was such a good boy, young and with lots of ambitions for his education and work. He intended to get his brothers engaged and married. He was engaged and intended to marry, but God didn't allow any of it. Hadi's life was short; in one evening, he was gone. Hadi was an extremely kind boy, caring for his people and tribe. He was a Quran reciter and was skilled in everything. Hadi did sports, recited Quran, and worked as a mechanic. He would often say, "Okay, let me contribute to something." His youthfulness was evident everywhere; now, Hadi has become a grief, a cancer in my heart.

We, his grieving aunts, remember when he would come from the gate and could see us from the window. He would run to see us and gather at the front yard to meet me. It's been four months since we haven't seen Hadi in our dreams, meaning he's rested. It's only Hadi's grief that brings us here so that our pain is somewhat reduced. Nothing more can be asked.

His bones were shattered, and his kidney got a hole; right here on the chest, it was major burns where only a bit of skin was left on his clothes and had come off. Yes, he was close to the suicide bomber. His body was seriously burned on Kowsar Danesh Street.

The suicide bomber appeared suspicious to the educational center’s guard, and the other guard got into a tussle with the attacker. Just as the students came out of the center, the attacker blew himself up, blowing up my nephew and tearing him apart.

We took him to Koh-e Chehel Dokhtaran for burial. We have two other martyrs there too: my daughter-in-law’s daughter is a martyr, and my uncle’s grandson was martyred in the explosion in police district 13. My cousin was martyred that year; he was named Sayed Rohullah. Apart from Rohullah, my daughter-in-law’s son also became a martyr serving in the local police in Dar-e Maidan; the poor boy was serving there. Yes, the unlucky guy was in the military.

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