AHRDO

Confidential

Let's never go back to our past

Narrator: Abdul Raziq Rezaei

Victims: Abdullah and Abdul Karim

Time of the incident: 2001

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

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

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was a de-miner

Narrator: Ahmad (nephew)

Victim: Nabi

Time of the incident: 2011

Place of the incident: Kohsan district, Herat province

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

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

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No statement

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

Narrator: Ali Shaheer

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

Time of the incident: 1979

The place of the accident: Pole Charkhi Polygon, Kabul

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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