'Mahbobas Promise'

Wrote this a few days ago, but couldn’t be bothered posting it.

Enjoy…

Yesterday i became a witness to the cruel imposition of the Taliban . Children of a disadvantaged 'war'. An unforgettable experience, almost demoralising.

We visited 'Mahbobas Promise'- an orphanage accomodating sixty deprived children and a number of widows. Deprived of emotional, educational and basic care which every human being deserves.

From a distance the three storey sanctuary grew larger and larger as we drove closer, the middle aged gatekeeper came out via the side door to check who we were before allowing entry. His stern face broke into a friendly one as a smile spread across his face. Realising who we were, the gates opened as our 4WD made it's way inside. Little children stood and looked on.

I tried smiling, but i couldn't. I was frozen. I kept an eye open for Kaka Sidiq ( Khola Mahbobas brother) but the children were much too distracting. The car stopped in the middle of the oval as directed by the orphanage helpers. Curious to explore, i thoughtlessly stepped out of the vehicle into a puddle of mud. My white runners had now turned greenish- brown. For the first time, i didn't care. There were more important matters awaiting us. I was too 'hooked up' with this place already.

A short, young lady with a warm smile welcomed us. A whiteboard marker in her grip, I assumed she was a teacher. Little children looked intently from where they were sitting- a few metres away. The young teacher led the way as we followed her upstairs. I turned around, taking a quick glance at the group of children who stood behind us. Curiously, i followed my family upstairs. I realised that the 'men' (incorporating dad, brother and a relative) had already gone to some other room, not sure why.

The answer became known to me as we went upstairs and into the living room where other women accompanied us (segregation due to genders). Mum began conversing, starting off by asking them what position they hold in the orphanage. Gradually, it came to light who they were. Widows of the disadvantaged Taliban 'war'. Mum, who I say has a heart of rock, seemed close to tears.

One of the widows gave explicit details about the brutal death of her husband. The Taliban had demanded him to release information about the whereabouts of chief Northern Alliance leaders (Ahmad Shah Masood's party). It was obvious to the Taliban that the man hadn't information about the party as he wasn't involved. Just an excuse to beat the poor man. That's when the torture began. He was hung by his ankles from the ceiling and beaten for two hours consecutively. Finally, he was acquitted. A few days later he died. Unsure, his wife presumed it was internal bleeding. Leaving behind his wife and four children.

Moments later, Kaka Sidiq entered the room, dressed in a black leather coat over a grey jacket and black tailored trousers holding a briefcase in his hand. I stood up in his presence, smiling as we greeted each other. I was delighted to see a familiar face. Kaka Sidiq left his family (including a two month old baby) to serve the orphans of Afghanistan. He looked much younger than when I had seen him in Sydney, Australia a few years ago. Around twenty orphans filled the room quietly, finding a place on the tooshak (mattress). Kaka Sidiq and I continued with the formalities, questioning each other's welfare, then the family's welfare etc. Dad joined us a little while later.

Kaka Sidiq asked who wanted to recite a taranah (a poem that is recited in a sing-song tone). They recited wholeheartedly,

‘Mother, where are you? You left an orphan. Mother, you left me in need…’

I couldn’t take it any more! My eyes became too wet to see, I dropped my head and waited for them to finish. Every pair of eyes told a dreadful story, a horrific past.

Some of the children told their stories with no emotion. As if losing a parent was alright. Suddenly, I realised why I was in Kabul. It was for children like them. how could I be so selfish and turn away from these faces. my moral conscience would’nt allow it. Even if I did go back to Australia, I’d be sure to leave something behind and contribute somehitng. A pledge to the poor and needy. I know I’ll face many impediments along the way… what doesn’t kill me can only make me stronger.

Ba omideh deedaar, khuda negahdaar