Song of War

SONG OF WAR Ayesha Khan The international community has re-discovered Afghanistan after ignoring the civil war that has raged there since 1992. The reason for this is yet another war, this time waged by the United States against the ruling Taliban and their guest Osama bin Laden. War fought in the name of peace is an unconvincing slogan to many, particularly those who reap the results ofconflict generation after generation. Women and children in Afghanistan know better than anyone else what war has brought them, and their stories are cautionary tales to those who believe in the healing powers ofmore violence and forced displacement. When Hafeeza spoke to us about her experience ofwar and the Taliban from a refugee camp in Peshawar, it was in the year 2000, when the world's interest in Afghanistan had slipped to its lowest point ever. The UN international appeal for humanitarian aid brought in so little money that it embarrassed them to announce the figures. Pakistan had officially declared that it too was tired ofsupporting millions ofdestitute refugees when two decades had gone bywith no hope ofimprovement. It had sealed the border with Afghanistan, turning back the new waves of drought-cum-war refugees at the border and roundingup illegal entrants to send them home. Haifa million new refugees came into Pakistan that year. The Pakistan government refused them refugee status and asked the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (unhcr) to set up the new refugee camps inside Afghanistan instead. At that point the tale of Hafeeza proved that the condition of new refugees from Afghanistan was urgent and serious, meriting immediate international action and a more sympathetic consideration from the Pakistan government. While the latestAfghan war has certainly focussed international attention on the plight ofwar victims, nonetheless humanitarian assistance is still falling short oftargets and the Pakistan government is still refusing to open its borders to accept the displaced. But [Mcridians.-feminism, race, transnationalism 2002, vol. 2, no. 2, pp. 259-65)©2002 by Wesleyan University Press. All rights reserved. 259 Hafeeza's story reminds us that in consequence ofevery political agenda and act of war there are people with unique and individual stories of suffering. She tells us about her fate at the hands ofthe Taliban, a regime since demonized in the Western world—butallowed by them to function at the time when she experienced theirwrath. Herwords also remind us thatall those who have waged war in Afghanistan have committed atrocities against its people, suggesting that there is no guarantee the current war will be any different. And finally, Hafeeza's eloquence and passion in describing the trauma of displacement and the yearning to go home speak for not only the Afghans, but for all refugees fleeing modern warfare around the world. The WarTrauma—Hafeeza's Story I was born in Parwan province, Bagram district. We used to have a good life until the war began. After the wars and cruelties started, I have seen people from Pushtoons to Hazaras, Tajiks, Uzbeks, everyone began atrocities against each other. I lost my husband, my cousin, my aunt's son and daughter in-law. Now it is my four children and me all alone. We all need to eat, wear clothes, and have a place to live and the means to survive. [My husband and son] were martyred seven years ago. He had a small shop close to the airport [in Kabul]. He and my elder sonwere in the shop when a rocket hit the front ofthe shop. They say it had come from Koh-ISafi from Gulbudin [Hekmatyar] Sahib. Both were torn to pieces. It was lunchtime when some people brought them both on a wheelbarrow. It was the worst moment ofmy life. I wanted to jump offthe roof. What would life be like without my husband and young son? I was tearing my hair, slapping myselfon the face, cutting myselfwith my own nails and fingers. People around me were trying to calm me down. My late mother was saying "it is God's will—now look after your other children." I have seen lots ofmiseries in Afghanistan. A few days before that, my aunt's daughter and one ofmy...