An Afghan village girl blossoms in the city
She ran from an arranged marriage into a Western household.
from the September 4, 2007 edition
Page 3 of 3
Mojabeen wears the burqa on her short walk to my house. But one simmering day when I took her shopping, she sheepishly asked if it was all right if she wore just her scarf. I smiled and said it was up to her. I wear a long shirt, jeans, and a sheer scarf in public. She still hasn't given up the tentlike blue garment completely: She dons it when she walks home, fearing her brother's disapproval.
Mojabeen is also learning about food and appliances. For one dinner, I gave her a bag with a head of lettuce and spinach and told her to cook the spinach. She cooked both because she'd never seen lettuce before. Also she didn't know the difference between the refrigerator and the freezer, so she twice put lettuce in the freezer, not understanding why it froze. When I explained the difference, we both had a good laugh.
I offered to teach her how to read and write in Dari, and she was thrilled. I got her a literacy-for-adults book, a notebook, and pencils. She put them in a plastic bag, and every day after her chores, she brings the bag, enthusiastic about her next lesson. So far, she has learned the alphabet, her numbers, and how to use a cellphone.
But things between us aren't always rosy. She often brings her 3-year-old with her to work, and one morning I noticed that his eyes were red and he was unusually quiet. She told me that Mahmood had beat him with a stick. I pulled up his shirt and saw red marks across his tiny back. I'd also seen Mojabeen slap his face for breaking something. I told her I have no right to tell her how to rear her children, but I do have the right to fire her. Both seem to have stopped abusing their boys.
Mojabeen has taught me about resilience and patience. Her mental and physical health have improved and it's her smile that propels me to get up and keep going in Afghanistan, a country on the brink of chaos again.
I moved back to my homeland from the US after the fall of the Taliban at a time of great hope for peace only to witness growing instability, violence, and dissipating hope. Yet, it's Afghans like Mojabeen who remind me of why I returned.
For her, moving to Kabul means giving up her home but gaining a freedom she had never known. Still, she considers herself a simple village girl. "We want to go back to our home in the village and feel safe. I can take what I have learned in Kabul and put it to use in my village," she says.
But for now, Mojabeen and Mahmood remain runaways.
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