Auzra Alian
Warning: this personal account speaks about attempted suicide
It’s been 15 months since I have stepped foot in the green grass of a football ground or in the boxing ring. I worked so hard to achieve my dreams as an athlete. But now it seems like it was all for nothing. This is the catastrophe that the Taliban have delivered to women everywhere in Afghanistan.
I was born to a farming family in 2003 in Borma village of Samangan Province. My father worked the land until he could no longer dig with the shovel. At that point, he moved us to Kabul in search of work. He was afraid we would go hungry.
Being completely uprooted and then “displaced” in Kabul was not easy for us. In the beginning, we had no place to sleep. Sometimes we slept on the streets of Kabul or we visited our relatives in the city and slept on their floors.
Finally after some time had passed, my mother got a job and we had a small room to call our own where we could sleep in peace. We shared an apartment and though my mother worked very hard, our life was very simple.
Every time we faced obstacles, it was my mother who would work harder to get us back our feet once again. One day our apartment in Kabul caught fire and our little home and all its belongings that our mother had worked so hard for were destroyed. We were again displaced, left to fend for ourselves in the streets and alleys of Kabul. The only thing of mine that was saved from the fire was a t-shirt.
We looked to our mother to save us again. She used the money she had saved up to buy a small plot of land on the outskirts of Kabul. At first, we pitched a tent on the ground yo live in and my mother gave birth to her youngest son under the tent. During the days when my mother went out to work in people’s homes, I was responsible for caring for my three siblings who were younger than me. Many days all we could afford to eat was dry bread while we saved up to build a proper shelter on the land.
When we built that shelter, life started to change again. I had just turned eight years old and I started to attend school. I noticed that my behavior was different from my peers. Instead of playing with dolls, I wanted to play football, just like I’ve been playing in the streets with neighbours since I was young. Even if I didn’t have shoes, I didn’t miss out on playing – I’d just kick the ball with bare feet.
One day a man called out to me while I was playing football in the street.
“Come, daughter! You play so well!” he said. “Go to the Federation, I hope to see you playing one day on my TV screen!”
He gave me the address for the Afghanistan Football Federation and strongly encouraged me to go. Now I see that man like my guardian angel.
The next day, I walked for two hours instead of going to school until I reached the Federation. I was less than 12 years old. When I walked in, I noticed all the girls were older than me. But they let me play and I played well. The people at the Federation noticed my abilities, but it was clear I did not understand the rules. I didn’t even know what a “corner” was. There were no laws in our street alley games – the rule was whoever had the ball was in charge!
When I returned home after the training, I told my mother, “I want to play football.” My mother was even more angry than imagined she would be.
“Which girl have you ever seen playing football?” she replied. “I won’t feed you if you don’t stop fantasizing.”
I accepted her ultimatum on the outside. But in reality, I used to skip school three days a week on foot and went to football practice instead.
It has been many years since those days. My mother didn’t know that I was training in soccer instead of going to school. At only 12 years old, I was picked to participate in the first soccer tournament to mark International Women’s Day. I shined in the match and managed to score four goals against the opposing team. At night, my name and photo appeared in the news. My mother was utterly shocked, and furious. When she found out the truth, she became exasperated and started shouting with anger at me. I had to go to my uncle’s house for safety. Even my uncle tried to convince my mother to accept my wish to play football, but she refused.
And I refused to give it up. I still went to train, more than my mother realised.
One day, I was named the best player in a competition and our team became the runner-up. They asked the families to come on stage while distributing our medals, but neither my mother nor my father were present. I cried. People thought I was crying tears of happiness, but I was devastated that no one was there for me. Our trainer was a kind woman. She knew about my situation and she hugged me. She hung the medal around my neck instead of my parents.
When I was 15 years old, it was third time my mother would come face to face with the fact that I was still committed to playing and had been doing so all the time. I joined the Afghanistan national team. There was nothing my mother could do to stop me. One day the Afghan women’s national team was going to play in Tajikistan. But the Federation gave the opportunity to someone who was a weaker player than me. I was heartbroken by this and I gave up being a member of the national team. But I did not give up football.
Then I started boxing as well. For three years, every Saturday I would participate in boxing. I loved it, my life of sports.
Then last year on August 15, my life shattered. The Taliban took control of Kabul and the whole country. When Kabul fell, all the dreams of girls were completely crushed.
For a girl whose life was football and boxing, sitting in the corner of the house for more than a year is to means dying slowly every day. I tried to make it happen faster and I cut the veins in my hand, but they took me to the hospital soon and I survived.
Think about how quietly violent life has become for a girl who fought against all the odds in the world to achieve her dream. She defied her own mother to step into the green grass rectangle. But now she has reached the point where she cuts her own veins to hasten death.
And yet, despite my pain, every time I think of that green grass rectangle and the boxing ring, a sort of hope stirs in my heart. I say to myself, the day will come when us girls will hear the sound of Taliban bones breaking. Just like they crushed our dreams under the boots of their ignorance and hardened beliefs.
