But one day my cousin told me, "Right now you have a lot of time, so what does it matter if you go into the second grade? If you study, you will soon be promoted to the fifth and then sixth. You can be in the top grade if you want. If you don’t go to school, you will spend your life doing hard work and sitting in the corner. You won’t have any talent; you won’t have anything. If you don’t get educated, one day your brothers and sisters will tell you that you are only good for washing their shoes." That hit me hard. Then she took my hand and led me to school saying, "I’m not going to let you just sit at home and do housework."
Peggy: What gives you hope for Afghanistan?
Setara: The struggle and hard work of the young generation, both women and men, give me great hope. When I see how hard they’re working at the university, how they’re trying to build their personalities in both their personal and social lives, I’m optimistic that that there will be something good in our future. I grew up in war, conflicts, rockets, and fire; everything that was in Kabul. I can remember
that time, and even now I continue to experience the bomb blasts and suicide attacks. At that time I just watched. Now I write about it.
Peggy: What do you see for your future?
Elaha: I don’t have any idea because I’ve never felt like I belonged to this country. I’ve always seen myself as an outsider. Perhaps it’s because I was raised in Iran... My life is so different from others’ here and that’s why I never feel like I’m an Afghan. I feel like I’m in Neverland and that I am not of this world. I grew up in Iran, but I’m not an Iranian either. In some ways I feel very alone and there are a lot of young people who feel the same way.
Peggy: After her interview, Elaha offered to perform for me. She called a guitarist friend to accompany her and then took me down to her tiny practice room. As she sang, I watched her lose herself in her music.
Afterwards, she led me into her bedroom. It was a small, neat, well-lit room with a single bed in the corner and a desk on the far side. The black walls had been stamped with chalky, white handprints from the lower corner at the foot of her bed up to the ceiling above her pillow. The fingers reminded me of the feathers of a bird taking wing, flying out of a black prison. In the far corner, opposite her desk, hung a noose, a hangman’s noose. She stood under it, tilted her head, stuck out her tongue and asked me to photograph her.
I was taken aback by this artistic expression of what many Afghans live with and the fact that she wanted to share it with the world: that death is always nearby, an option should things get too bad. Although their lives may look fine from the outside, the artist’s life-path can be one of danger and loneliness.
Sahraa: I must tell you, we are a lost generation. All of us, because of our society, lived our lives for our mothers, fathers, or family and then when we started to live for ourselves, it was a little late. We must respect everybody, our in-laws, our parents, our elders, but we must also start to realize what we ourselves want, because our life is very short.
The Bird Market
Peggy: Mariam and I took a photo excursion into Kabul’s bird market and surrounding neighborhood. What a gutsy woman she is! Our one option was to go on a Friday, the only day of the week when her print shop was closed. By the time we got to the bird market, the narrow alley was filled elbow-to-elbow with men. Not one other woman was in sight. Both sides of the cramped passageway were lined with cages on top of cages, each filled with pigeons, parakeets, kabks (Chukar partridge, a bird used for fighting), and more. Above the birds, empty baskets and cages precariously lined the edges of the roofs. Mariam plowed right in, with me in her wake. We’d walk a bit and then step up into a shop doorway, stepping out of the river of men streaming by to get our shots. Yes, I was a little nervous entering into this commotion, but felt safe enough following Mariam. The whole time I was never harassed nor touched inappropriately. I also couldn’t understand what anyone around me was saying.
At one point, Mariam turned to me and said, "Let’s go. Now." She turned on her heel and I followed her back the way we’d come, the river of men parting to let us pass. I could tell that someone had said something that made her realize that we weren’t welcome there; that it wasn’t safe to continue deeper into the male bastion of this market. We left that confined, crowded alley and turned onto a wide street. Only a few other women were walking about and even they were cloaked in burqas or enormous scarves.
On our way to the market, I had felt pretty safe walking on this same street, bustling with the every-day activities of vendors and their customers. Now I was nervous. Warnings to foreigners not to walk on the streets flooded my mind. My actual level of safety hadn’t changed, but my level of fear had. Mariam and I continued the few more blocks to her house without incident. We sat comfortably in her living room while her mother and sisters served us a delicious lunch of qaboli rice 6, a parsley and tomato salad, and yogurt accompanied by a plate of fresh hot peppers.
The bird market in central Kabul.
2/Islam
In its history and prehistory, Afghanistan has been home to various religions. Zoroaster is credited with establishing the world’s first monotheistic religion. Buddhists came as early as the sixth century BCE, and lived throughout the country. Hindus, Jains, and Jews were already part of the demography when Alexander the Great arrived in 330 BCE. He and his entourage introduced pagan Greek beliefs, but the Greeks and Macedonians coexisted with the locals and sometimes adopted their religions. In the first few centuries of the Common Era, Christianity entered the mix. Sufism developed between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. As noted earlier, Arab Sunni Muslims conquered Herat between 642 and 683 CE and gained control over the rest of Afghanistan by 870. The Safavid Empire that ruled Iran and western Afghanistan officially adopted the Shia version of Islam in the sixteenth century. According to the Pew Research Center,1 the Shia presently constitute 10-20 percent of the Afghan population and are mostly, but not only, ethnic Hazaras.
During the years of Muslim expansion, newly conquered peoples were given the choice to subject themselves to the new empire or die; once they accepted the authority of their new rulers, they were given the choice to convert to Islam or not as they wished. Those choosing not to convert had to pay a "protective tax"2 and were excluded from military draft. Those who did convert were ordered to pay a "Muslim tax" and were subject to compulsory military service. There were benefits and risks associated with conversion, but it wasn’t mandatory.3
One result of this rich and complex religious past is that historically, Afghans were very tolerant of different faiths and of variations within Islam. This acceptance faded with the introduction of the communist regimes, leading up to the 1979 Soviet invasion. In general, during any political, economic or social unrest, populations become more rigid and uncompromising in their beliefs. Additionally, the tactic of pitting one group against another was practiced during all of the Afghan wars.
Today, Afghanistan’s official name is the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan. It is a crime for an Afghan to profess or convert to a religion other than Islam. Media portrayal of fundamentalist extremist