Tales of the Dark Age (No. 96)
By Momtaz Hossini. Translated by Rostam Safdari
One afternoon in Kabul, I heard about Firoza from a woman who had known her family in Daikundi Province. What she described was not only the story of one girl, but a quiet account of how many Afghan women live and die. Firoza was born during Ramadan in a remote district of Daikundi, the first child of a poor farming family. Her father named her Firoza, a word that means turquoise, a precious stone. At the time, her future seemed full of promise.
Her parents lived quietly, surviving on a small piece of land that barely met their daily needs. Her mother was a reserved woman who spoke little. When Firoza was eight, she asked to go to school. The request was simple, but the cost of books and pens was not.
At first, her father avoided the question. But Firoza persisted, and eventually he agreed. Every day, she walked two hours to reach her classroom. Until fifth grade, her father managed to support her. After that, poverty and unemployment made it impossible to continue paying for school supplies.
Her mother began doing embroidery work for neighbouring women and used the small income to buy books. Firoza also found other ways to continue studying. After school, she searched rubbish bins for discarded notebooks that still had blank pages, as well as pens, pencils, and used erasers. She carried them in a bag sewn from a sack. Other students mocked her. One called her “the rubbish-bin beggar.”
She ignored the insults. She ranked first in her class and completed seventh grade despite the hardship. Then the Taliban returned to power. Schools were closed.
With education no longer an option, Firoza was forced into marriage. She resisted, holding onto hope that schools would reopen. They did not. With no alternatives, she married Karim, a man twice her age. She felt no affection for him and cried constantly. Their financial situation was poor. Her father insisted the marriage proceed.
The wedding was modest.
Life after marriage brought little relief. Karim and his father worked long hours as labourers to earn a basic income. In his absence, Karim’s mother controlled the household. She shouted at Firoza, insulted her, and treated her like a servant. Food was strictly rationed. Firoza could not eat without permission.
She stayed silent, afraid her husband would side with his mother. After one year, she became pregnant. Her own mother visited briefly and brought a small amount of nutritious food. Firoza suffered from stomach pain and severe headaches, and her mother realised she was pregnant. Firoza said nothing about the abuse and let her mother return home unaware.
Her health steadily declined. Neglect and lack of food led to severe malnutrition. Before the Taliban takeover, a local clinic had provided care for pregnant and breastfeeding women. It had since closed.
Throughout her pregnancy, Firoza experienced dizziness, anaemia, and loss of appetite. Late one night, labour began, followed by heavy bleeding. She remained at home in pain for two days without medical care. Eventually, her husband hired a vehicle to take her to a health centre.
Her child was born on the way. Firoza died just short of the clinic.
Her death was not an isolated tragedy. It reflected the reality faced by many Afghan women who endure poverty, forced marriage, and the collapse of basic health services. Under policies that restrict women’s lives, their suffering often remains unseen and unheard.
Photo Credited: Internet
