Dear Zari: Hidden Stories from Women of Afghanistan by Zarghuna Kargar Read Free Book Online

period of rule by the Mujahedeen and then the Taliban, shattered those dreams.
    Before the fighting broke out in Afghanistan, my father wouldn’t have entertained the idea of arranged marriages for any of his daughters, butwar changes every aspect of life. The basics of survival, food, shelter and safety end up taking priority over education. Our lives – like those of so many other refugee families – had changed forever, and there was no doubt that it was really hard for my father to be responsible for four daughters. He had not only to ensure our safety, but also our moral well-being. Many fathers ended up dealing with these problems by arranging for their daughters to be married to men living in Europe, where they would enjoy a better standard of living than in Pakistan. Meanwhile, Afghan men who had settled in the West were starting to come back to Pakistan in search of Afghan girls to marry. I consider myself lucky to have got an education before getting married.
    Once we were properly settled in Pakistan, I was able to think about my future and my ambition to become a journalist. Many years before, I’d dreamt of becoming a professional singer, but as it’s not a career choice held in high regard by my culture, I decided to become a radio presenter. While I was studying, the BBC World Service introduced a free five-day course in journalism for young Afghan refugees in Peshawar. Thrilled, I enrolled on it together with two of my university friends. When the course was over, I started work on an educational programme for Afghans. The programme was an international aid project set up by the BBC World Service Trust. I started to make short radio packages on subjects of interest to Afghan women in the refugee camps. I visited these women regularly and asked them specifically what kind of information they needed to hear about, and they told me they wanted guidance on a variety of health issues and more information about contraception. Some of these women had particular skills – like weaving – and I would interview them about their craft-making. After recording these interviews in the camps I would add in some material from relevant experts before editing the material into a radio report that was then broadcast on the BBC’s Afghan Service from London.
    It felt so good to hear my work on the radio. In fact, I loved it, although when I first heard my voice on the radio I was embarrassed, because it sounded so small and young, rather like a bird chirping. That didn’t stopmy father being proud of me though. My sisters, meanwhile, were all busy studying and my not-so-baby brother was at a private school and doing well. My father also had a good job writing for the BBC’s ‘New Home, New Life’ educational drama, similar to Radio 4’s soap ‘The Archers’. The series has been on air for more than ten years, and is the most listened-to BBC programme in the whole of Afghanistan.
    Despite things continuing to get easier and life becoming more comfortable, it still wasn’t safe for us to be living in Pakistan. My father was far from secure in a city where both the Taliban and the fundamental Mujahedeen forces were free to pursue their particular agendas, and Pakistan was not a country that gave sanctuary to political exiles. A couple of Afghan politicians from my father’s era had already been murdered in Pakistan by fundamentalist Jihadis – those who had a vendetta against politicians from the Soviet era – and with the Taliban in control in Afghanistan we knew we weren’t safe in Peshawar. We worried every morning when my father left for work, and would remain anxious until he returned in the evening. In those days mobile phones were few and far between, so he couldn’t let us know he was okay during the day. Pakistan was only ever a temporary stopping point for us; we didn’t ever expect it to become our home. We’d always imagined we would eventually return to Afghanistan, but had gradually come to