Read Online Letters to My Daughters by Fawzia Koofi - Free Book Online Page B

two days of fighting, the Mujahideen were declared the new government. Peace talks for the surrender and handover of power had already started at a conference in Geneva two years earlier, in 1989. So when the government in Kabul collapsed, few were surprised. Suddenly Faizabad was full of Mujahideen fighters who had come down from their mountain positions. I remember watching them, thinking how interesting and grizzled their faces looked. These were men who had been living in mountain camps, subsisting on scarce rations and fighting almost daily battles for several years. In my mind, soldiers wore smart uniforms, so it was very strange to see these casually dressed men in jeans and sneakers.
    I wondered how some of them could ever readapt to civilian and civilized life. And I was not alone in that thought. The government offices were suddenly full of these men, and they terrified the locals; many schools shut their doors because parents refused to send their daughters, fearing they might be raped by these ex-fighters who now stalked the city streets.
    But overall, most people in Afghanistan were happy that the Russians were gone and still hoped that the Mujahideen would settle their disputes and form a decent government.
    These political changes marked a very depressing period in my life. I was just a teenager; if I wanted to travel around the city, I had to wear a burka for the first time in my life. The Mujahideen were not religious fundamentalists and did not impose the wearing of the burka, but wearing it was more a question of safety. With so many male ex-fighters around, men who might not have seen a woman for years, it just was not a good idea for a young girl to show off her beauty in public.
    In the old days, wearing a burka was a sign of nobility, but it also had a practical use. It was designed to protect a woman from the harsh elements, the burning sun, dusty sand and fierce winds.
    I know that many people in the West today see the burka as a sign of female oppression and religious fundamentalism. But I don’t see it that way.
    I want the right to wear what I think is best, but within the confines of Islam. Covering the hair with a head scarf and wearing a long loose tunic that covers one’s arms, chest and bottom is enough to satisfy the Islamic rule of being modest before God. Anyone who says a woman must cover her entire face to be truly Islamic is wrong. A burka is definitely not an Islamic requirement but is usually worn because of cultural or societal reasons.
    I am also aware that in some western countries, wearing a face-covering burka has become a political issue, with certain politicians and leaders wanting to ban it by law. While I believe that all governments have a right to determine the laws and culture of their own countries, I also believe in freedom of choice, and I think western governments should let Muslim women wear what they want.
    One day my mother, sister and I got dressed up in our nicest clothes for a party at my aunt’s house. I was wearing makeup and was very pleased with how I looked, and, unusually for me, I even felt rather beautiful. Before the arrival of the Mujahideen, I would have just put a head scarf on to cover my hair before stepping outside. But now my mother insisted that I wear a burka that she had borrowed for me from a neighbour. I was furious. I had never worn a burka in my life, and here I was in my nicest clothes, with my hair and makeup done for a party, and she wanted me to cover myself in a heavy blue sack.
    I refused, and we got into a terrible argument. My mother pleaded, cajoled and threatened me, insisting that it was for my own protection. She argued that the soldiers could not be trusted if they saw me uncovered and that I should hide myself to avoid unwanted trouble. I was crying, which only made me angrier because it ruined my makeup. In a moment of teenage rebellion, I decided that if I had to wear a burka, I wouldn’t go to my aunt’s