The side effects of war in Afghanistan

Afghanistan is a country that has many stories and sufferings in its heart. Most of those stories are unspoken narratives that are suffocated in women's throats. The people who have not received any other fruits in the war and jihad of Afghanistan except sadness and the burden of suffering and hardship. Shagoufeh's sad story of life after her husband is a mirror of thousands of Afghan women's lives.

Shegoufeh is a pseudonym whose life stories are reflected here. She refused to publish her picture and real name. He says that I became interested in Sima and Akhlaq Jovani, who was my childhood friend, from the 11th grade of school. His name is Ali and we lived in a small mountain village. A handsome boy, tall and with big hair, gave a special beauty to his face. We both studied in the same school, the boy's class was in the afternoon, and I usually saw him on the way to school every day. And if we were alone, we would sometimes tell stories about lessons and school together. As the days passed, my interest in him increased and my life became more colorful and prosperous with his love, but I couldn't dare to express it directly to him.

Those days when the warm summer sun gave its color and face to the cold fall and the yellow leaves of the trees covered the streams of the village with a golden carpet, we were slowly approaching the end of the academic year. I wrote what was in my mind on a piece of paper and gave it to Masoumeh, one of my friends so that she could see Ali in every corner. He took the letter and left. As each day passed, I became more anxious until after four days I saw my friend next to the water spring that was used for drinking water in our ten. At first, he confused me and said that Ali gave you a negative answer and said that I love someone else and I should not receive a letter from you. But after a moment he took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to me. When I opened the letter, my eyes fell on a title that read "In the name of God who created love" and then he wrote emotional and beautiful sentences full of love and affection for me. I ran and hugged my friend and then each of us then We went our way."

In our Qashlaq, there are strict traditions towards girls and women. It is less possible to sit together and talk face to face. The only way to exchange our stories was the letters we used to exchange through Masoumeh. In the same winter, with the consent of our families, we got married, and in the spring of that year, when Ali's family had severe economic problems, he had to leave his studies and join the Afghan National Police to continue our lives. After completing his education, he started working in Helmand province. He worked there for almost two years and sometimes came home during the holidays and wished to continue his studies again in the near future. The last time he came home, his face showed concern for the increasing insecurity and severe wars. Stress and apprehension surged in him. "I remember that on the last day when he left home, he hugged his one-year-old child tightly and there were tears in his eyes. I wish I had known that this was our last meeting so I would never have let him return to duty, but he was gone and I lived in dread day and night. I tried to check on him at least two or three times a week. Every time I called, he was worried that he might be killed in this war. I had decided with myself that I would not let him go on duty again, I could not imagine that my child and I would live without him."

For some time, Ali was often away from the antenna area and our contact had decreased, he said that he was going to war in different areas and could not be in constant communication. His phone was off for seven days. I was worried but I didn't allow myself to visualize him in my heart. On Saturday evening, when the sun was slowly setting in the space of our house, four to five Musfids of the village came to our house with a few women. was left I didn't know what to do or what to say until one of the ladies told us the news of my martyrdom in the presence of my husband's family members, oh what a heavy evening, my whole life was destroyed at that moment. The palaces of my dreams collapsed, I touched the hell that I had heard with my soul. Even though my little baby didn't know what happened, I felt that all the dust in the world had a plan on his face. I was screaming from the bottom of my heart. All the tears were consoling me and Ali's family. There was a full-scale resurrection and a huge mourning. They said that we should immediately prepare to go to Tamidan Air Force Base to receive the body, I couldn't believe that I heard these words. I wish I was dreaming but no; I had to accept what was going on.

They put us in the car and we started, the space was getting dark little by little. My child and I went to meet his father, he only stared at my face sometimes. I felt that his innocent soul understood everything, understood that he had lost his father's warm embrace forever. He realized that his father's arms are no longer the support of his life. He slowly fell asleep with a depressed and withered body. I was struggling with a world of worry, despair, longing, and endless tears. After traveling for a few hours, we reached Nili, I don't know exactly what time it was, but I felt like it was past midnight. We had to go to a hotel and rest until morning. Everyone was sleeping in one corner and my tears were involved in longing for the sweet days and the bitter days of the future. We got up after a few hours. We had to go slowly. They said that the plane carrying the bodies might arrive at nine o'clock in the morning. Some other soldiers' corpses were also brought that day. The plane landed exactly at nine o'clock in the morning. In addition to us, the prisoners of other martyrs were also present in the square. We all went near the plane in tears. They lowered the bodies. I was beating my head and wishing I had never been born, I wish I had died before seeing this scene. On the other side, my mother-in-law had fainted due to the blowing of her coffin. What a sad day it was. Your longing will burn my being. But there was no choice. What did he do to me?! I had to accept that my life with all its dreams became a wind and it will bring me nothing but dust and sadness. My child's tears made my grief heavier. He may not have known that his father's corpse was inside that three-colored coffin, but the sighs and mourning of others and my tears caused him to cry.

In the afternoon of that day, we buried Ali's lifeless body. I prayed to God for him. I still have a few photos of him. He slept peacefully, but he left the world with all his hardships and sorrows to me and my child.

It's been two years since his light has been extinguished from our dark life and I breathe like a motionless corpse in his separation and swallow my sorrow in the corner of isolation.