By Sara Rasoli
Even though my husband was trying to pretend that everything was fine, the anxiety and panic were visible on his face. The day Kabul fell, he came home late and did not eat anything. There was only one sentence on his lip: “Everything is lost”.
He is a senior editor for one of the media outlets in Afghanistan, a man who loves to keep up with news and events around him. But now, he no longer watches television, reads newspapers, or listens to radios.
After the collapse of the Kabul government, I vividly remember he did not have the strength to go to work. The sound of giant foreign military planes flying over was exhausting our patience.
Two days after the fall of Kabul, while people were leaving Afghanistan, I paid a visit to my family doctor. I was in my last month of pregnancy. The thought of giving birth to my child in the most miserable country in the world made me think of myself as the unluckiest mother in the world.
“Your child is healthy and was supposed to be born this week,” the doctor told me. He added that I have to wait until the end of the week and visit him in case I didn’t deliver by then.
Although my husband was faking his happiness about the birth of our second child, I knew deep down that he was going through a hard time.
With each kick of my child, I felt more restless than ever. I was no longer following the news as my husband advised against it.
Those days were the darkest days of my life. My husband could no longer stand the situation. On 28 of August, he decided to join the exodus.
The next evening, he kissed my forehead and said farewell to his parents. I can’t describe those moments. The sound of gunshots, the Taliban, the smell of horror and panic and giving birth to my child, away from my husband was crashing my soul and my mind.
My husband left and I could not hold back my tears. I was crying and my 3-year-old son, who didn’t know his father had left, put his head on my lap.
Maybe August 30 was my most agonizing night. I had no news of my husband; I only knew that he didn’t make it inside the airport amongst the huge crowd who were also waiting in hope of fleeing the country. Since he left, he called twice to update us. But on both occasions, the sound of bullets in the background did not let me hear him.
It was midnight when I felt severe pain. The taxi driver who took us to the hospital told us that the last US troops would leave Afghanistan in a few hours, and the country “would be free of occupation.”
Two hospitals didn’t admit me, saying the doctors have left the country. When we got to the third one, my husband was there, waiting for us. He came back as soon as he heard of my situation.
Two hours after the last US soldier left Afghanistan, my son was born in an empty hospital–we were the only patient.
I do not know if you have ever felt joy and fear at once, what about hope and despair? That was our experience that night.
I think about my children’s future under the Taliban. We have never wanted this life for our children, but it happened. I want my children to know that what happened was not our choice. We tried our best to raise our children in a country where freedom is valued, and people love each other.
Sara Rasoli, 27, is a housewife and mother of two children.
Translation by Maryam Khademi.
