As I walk down the dirt-covered
street with my face and body-covered head to toe in my burqa
gown. I walk along side my husband, whom I was forced to marry
at age thirteen. I make sure I walked quietly so the sound of
my foot steps can't be heard. I stopped and saw another woman
being beaten because she made a noise while she walked. Life
has been cruel and harsh for the women here, ever since that
day on September 27, 1996 an extremist militia named the Taliban
took over the Afghanistan government. Women have been denied
the right to all freedom. The young girls are no longer aloud
to attend school because the men feel they don't need to learn.
According to the government these changes are about of the Islamic
My husband went today to watch
a Public executions which are held on Fridays in a sports stadium
before an audience of thousands. I recently found out that my
sister was the main show, she was killed by a slash to the throat
because her husband said she stole from him. The tears I want
to cry must be held back, or I may be the next attraction. The
radio broadcast echoes through my ears the repeating recitations
of Koranic verses, and poems in praise of Allah's law.
My life is no longer a life.
I fear from day to day that I will be beaten again for something
I have done or my husband will accuse me of something horrible
and I will be dead. I am a slave I am dead for no one hear my
cries, will there ever be salvation?