Nadia Ghulam’s story of survival in Afghanistan: “If someone had found out, they would have killed me”

The best-selling book in Lithuania was published by Alma littera in Lithuania, translated by Carmina Daban Sunyer and Dovilė Kuzminskaitė. Ghulam, who fled Afghanistan and lives in Barcelona today, answered questions from journalist Laisvė Radzevičienė.

Nadia, your book, which you co-wrote with Agnese Rotger, starts off very brilliantly. Was this the Afghanistan of your childhood?

Afghanistan is a country ravaged by war for more than forty years. I was born and raised in Kabul. It was a wonderful city from my childhood until the day the bombs started falling. The women of this city enjoyed freedom and independence, schools were open, and my dad had a permanent job. Kabul, compared to the cities of Iran and Pakistan, was progressive and developed.

It’s hard to imagine, but until very recently, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, women in my country wore miniskirts and this symbolized social freedom. Electric buses circulated through the streets of Kabul, and hospitals and schools were equipped with everything they needed to run smoothly. Services and society at that time functioned as they should.

But war broke out and the city changed, so you only had one option: wear a turban?

Not only schools and hospitals were destroyed, but also the mentality of the people: the behavior of many Afghans has completely changed. Before the war, women went to work, met with friends, spent their free time as they wanted, and after the war everything changed radically. Women’s rights are so restricted that finding a mission prevents them from finding work. Our family was left without a bra, I had to work. The only way to do it is to pretend to be a man and tame a turban.

Your brother died in the explosion. How did you survive his death? Have you ever wanted revenge?

The death of my brother seriously injured me and continues to hurt me to this day. It is impossible to forget such a great loss. I carry that pain, I learn to live with it, I often think that it strengthens me: the woman, the personality and the daughter of my parents, and the sister of my sisters. Revenge means violence, and I have long since deleted this word from my dictionary. I chose to look at the situation that happened to me with love and understanding. That this, the Nadia of today, should never suffer as I suffered.

What does it mean for a woman to assume the role of a man in your country? And what would have happened if you hadn’t made that decision?

In Afghanistan, if a woman takes on the job and role of a man, it seems derogatory and even impossible to many. But it seemed like this to me: I am definitely not less strong than men. Why couldn’t it be the same as them? And it’s not just about gender equality, it’s more about dreams and inspirations. If I had not made a decision in those days, it is very possible that my family, like many families in Afghanistan, would have starved.

Do you remember the day you first put on your men’s turban?

Always I remember. That moment is tattooed on my heart.

You had a terrible secret under your turban, in the eyes of the society of that time. What if it came out?

If someone had discovered my secret, today I would be dead. And you wouldn’t read my book.

You know very well what it means for a woman to lose part of herself. Be something else ..?

I never thought that I had lost my femininity under a turban. Every day I waited for the next day to come and I would return to the world by myself, not Zelmaï, but Nadia. I have nurtured this hope for a decade, planning a step forward each beautiful day.

He knew that it would finally be a time when he could no longer pretend to be a man. Brendau, my body was changing, it was impossible to hide it. I have an extraordinary imagination, it was good for me to think that a change of body will open up the possibility for me to leave the city, go to another region of Afghanistan or another country at all. It was good to think that the body would show me the way and the way out of the situation in which I had become hostage.

Is being a boy in your country easier than being a girl? Is being a woman, even in the modern world, more difficult than being a man?

In a country where there is a war full of the worst imaginary violence, it is difficult to be just a man, both male and female. It was a time when the Taliban regime decided that women could not work, so I had to pretend to be a man in order to support my family. He was a man among women and a woman among men, which meant it was twice as difficult for me. When I finally escaped and came to Europe, when I saw that women have equal rights here, I was overwhelmed with ecstasy. I no longer believe it today.

My dream is to return to my country one day to be able to work there with the new generation of my compatriots.

Isn’t it a paradox to hide to be free? Or maybe there are no real barriers to a free soul?

Freedom is within each one of us, not outside. Clothes and uniforms are only the facade, the most important thing is what the heart says. Many men and women in the world do not understand what freedom is. They understand the word and the concept, but only a small part have felt true inner freedom. When your soul is free, no one in the world can stop you.

You couldn’t write or read until you were sixteen. Are Afghan Women Still Living Today?

The situation has changed little: men and women have suffered and continue to suffer from the war. In war, education is neglected. In Kabul, the situation seems to improve when the city was occupied by the Americans, capitalism arrived. The education system has been privatized, so that education is only available to a small number of people and is expensive and difficult to access for everyone else.

Now he lives in Barcelona. Do you dream of your homeland?

My dream is to return to my country one day to be able to work there with the new generation of my compatriots. In 12 years, Barcelona has managed to complete my studies and achieve a lot, so I really know that education and upbringing are more necessary than ever for my country.

You arrived in Catalonia very tired. What helped you get back to normal?

I have three most important foundations in my life: education, faith, and my mother. I left her in Afghanistan, so I focused on education and faith. I trusted God, I asked him to dedicate himself to science in Spain. I have no doubt that having goals allows us to move forward with firmness and confidence. My life has never been normal, I have always lived in extraordinary circumstances. I cannot say that the difficulties have passed, but I hope that one day they will. That is why even now, being safe, I try to create a better life for myself every day.

Excerpt from the secret of my turban

Death and demons

Mom was always there. She left my two little sisters with my aunt, and Dad and Zelma lived here and there. They were looking for food, only men in Afghanistan do, and at that time it was more difficult than ever because we had almost no money.

One day, they received a package of rice, flour, sugar and a little tea from some NGO: all the essential set, which was the greatest luxury in those times of deprivation. He boarded a taxi to return to the house where he was staying at the time, but when the embracing euphoria informed him of his success, the driver suddenly stopped: a militia checkpoint. Militiamen from the group that was in control of the area at the time, Abdul Rashid Dostum’s war supporters, looked inside the taxi, looked at each other, and showed the taxi driver to follow them. Nothing was explained, but Dad realized that something bad was going on.

When they got to the barracks, Dostum’s men took everything they had: food, a watch, money, and decided to kill him. He took me to a nearby wasteland next to a horribly stinky well and threw a taxi driver without blinking. He apparently hit well as he fell, because no scream was heard.

Just as they had decided to kill them, only to save themselves, inexplicably, because one man said:

– Wait! This child is like my nephew.

Such an absurd reason was enough for others to stop. My dad and my brother, hugged and scared, couldn’t stop whining.

– Do not worry! Ordered one of the elders. – But be careful: if you try to get back what we took from you or slip something, we will kill you.

Both disappeared from the race, and although Zelma wanted to forget everything as soon as possible, Dad reiterated the need to recover what he had taken and, if not too late, rescue the taxi driver.

The story ended happily because Dad knew an influential man who agreed to intervene. No one demanded an explanation from the officers, but Dad and Zelma recovered their watch and pulled a poor taxi driver out of the well, leaving with a few bruises. True, he was very scared because he had to spend a few hours in the mush on the bodies of decaying people – the previous victims of those savage militiamen.

A few days later, Dad came to the hospital and was very shocked. If he was surprised, how should teenage Zelma have felt? The mother tortured her and did not understand why the son did not come to visit her and why she no longer received any knowledge of him after that incident. She also didn’t understand why her husband, when he started talking about it, lost his self-control, and after coming out of his shell for a short time, he explained everything to her in a very strange way: Zelma escaped to Pakistan, will she return … But won’t she did one get away? Why didn’t you say anything about your plans? Anxiety devoured her, sometimes she wanted to be in the hospital with me, her hand grabbed me.

Since then, Dad has sunk into unrelenting, hidden pain, and his path has begun to change.