“I will never forgive the Taliban for their crimes”

Sara

16-year-old child bride, Samangan

“My name is Sara. I’m 16 years old and I come from Samangan. When I was in the tenth grade, the Taliban closed school gates. I wanted to become a psychologist in the future and help women in the districts of Samangan who suffer from mental illness due to violence in their family. But the Taliban’s control over the country and the closure of schools and universities shattered my dream.

Even if the Taliban were to reopen school gates now, I cannot go to school because my family has arranged my engagement to my cousin, and I am supposed to travel to Iran to marry him.

My father encouraged me to study when I was young and sent me from our village to a preparatory course in the city for the university entrance exam. But now, as the Taliban consider women their enemy and spread anti-education messages from mosque pulpits, men from our families have also become resentful of our education.

The mullah (mosque cleric) said that once a girl grows up, it is a perverse thing to stay in her father’s house. ‘If you get engaged, you will be lucky, and both we and Allah will be satisfied.’

My family, without consulting me, arranged my engagement, and I cried a lot. I argued with everyone, but my mother’s only response was, ‘It’s for the best, my daughter.’ My father said girls do not need to study and it is better if they settle down and become a married woman.

With tears and pleas, I told him that if I get engaged, he has to hold a wedding for me and then take me to Iran, and I won’t be able to go to school anymore. My father said that the religious authorities have assured us that girls’ schools won’t open again, and therefore he has given my hand in marriage.

They forced me into an engagement with a heavy heart, ignoring my tears and dreams for the past two years. I have no choice about getting married, going to Iran, and abandoning my school in Afghanistan.

My days are spent in a corner of the house. I suppress my tears and cries deep inside my throat. When I think about marriage and leaving school, my heart darkens. Sometimes I think of running away from home, but later, if I fall into the hands of the Taliban due to escaping from home, they will lash me. Afghan girls are waiting for schools to reopen, but I have lost my chance to wait for school. I will never forgive the Taliban for their crimes.”

“A cloak of silence settled over women like me, turning our homes into prisons”

Two women in blue burqas walk down a narrow alley, one holding a small child.