Climate Change and My Misfortunes
WORDS BY YALDA
I am sitting next to the window and looking out of it. There is heavy rain. Whenever I have nothing to do, I think of the sad events of the past, then my tears find their way and wet my face. I was born in Kamar Kulagh village, which is one of the poorest villages in Herat province of Afghanistan. Everyone loves their hometowns, but I hate it since I became wretched right there. The bad days of my life started when our village faced a dwindling water supply. Severe drought covered our village. People in our village were all dependent on agriculture and livestock farming. Agriculture and livestock farming were the main sources of livelihood in our village until dwindling water supplies devastated our economy. My mom was pregnant when we were at the hardest moments of our life. Because of dwindling water supplies, we faced lots of financial problems. My father could not afford to provide us with enough food in a day. Most of the time we had bread, potatoes and sometimes rice. In fact, we hardly prepared them either. We did not have money to buy fruits and vegetables.
ART BY HELLA
My mom was too weak and slim. She did not look like she was a pregnant woman. She was always nervous and was in no mood for anything; however, she did all the house chores and sewed people’s clothes. My father just worked on farms and only came home at night. My brothers worked with my father on farms even though there was not that much work to do. They traveled long distances to fetch drinking water although that water was not healthy. My brothers were too slender due to having no nourishing food to eat. When they came home at night, they were totally tired. In addition, I was utterly a skinny girl. Sometimes, when I saw myself in the mirror, I felt afraid of myself. In addition, I had a frightened life in that home and in that village. My mom always shouted at me over little things. The more days that passed, the less she felt good. As well as that, she constantly looked blue and exhausted. One day, when I woke up, I felt terrible in my tummy. More than ever, I needed to go to the toilet and it drove me totally crazy since I was afraid of our toilet. It was very old and scary. When I shared my problem with my mom, she just said, "it is common in our village and there is no need for being scared. It is called cholera. In villages like ours it happens more. A few days later you will get better.”
Then I said, "I want to sleep." and she answered, "Go and sweep the home!"
I just nodded my head in approval. I swept the home but I had pain. I could not understand how this all happened to us. This drought changed our life in a bad way; moreover, it made life as bad as possible for us. Sometimes, I wished I had been born in a village with a good economy. I dreamed of a kind mom and dad with a big house and in addition, a table with a variety of food. When I thought about delicious food, my mouth watered. But that was just a dream.
One night my mom felt terrible in her womb and my dad went to call the woman who was in our neighbourhood. I was really scared since my mom did not look good. After an hour, the woman got out of the room which my mom was in. She said that my mom had given birth prematurely. But she could not rescue the child and my mom had lost her child.
I was both happy and unhappy for the infant. I was happy since we did not have a good life. We were too poor and, if he were alive, he would have a terrible life. Additionally, I was upset as I was waiting for him. I loved babies. My mom was not good. After 1 day my mom became too sick. My father called that woman again. She was a midwife. She was with my mom in the room, but I was quite frightened. I just wanted to be with my mom.
ART BY HELLA
After an hour she came to us and said, "Your mom was totally weak and had lost lots of blood. I don't know how to say but your mother just passed away. May Allah bless your mom."
My brothers and I cried as much as we could. We had lost our mom, but I did not see my father crying. After a month, a man came to our house and proposed to me. My dad accepted without asking me. The only thing that he talked about was money. I could not understand him at all. "But I am only 15 years old," I said to my dad, but he told me, "what is the difference between now and then? You are not supposed to be with us forever, are you? I cannot provide you with anything. Do not worry! Your husband has money for anything that you want. Additionally, I do not want to hear anything else. Understood?"
I had no choice; therefore, I just nodded my head in approval. He was 14 years older than me. I could not understand why he wanted to marry me. The only thing that I knew was that I was tired from everything, even my life. After 2 months I tied the knot and went to my husband’s house with a broken heart. He gave my dad as much money as he wanted. I could not comprehend why this was happening to us? Why should all misfortunes come to us? Why should women and girls pay for all unluckiness? All those questions were on my nerves.
My father and brothers’ lives became better. For that I was a bit happy. I wished I had a family with a good economy. Since, if I had that and if we did not face a water shortage, I would not be forced to marry a man who was too brutal and I would not lose my dear mom. Whenever I thought of my mom, my tears found their way to my face. Moreover, after 4 months I got pregnant. I, myself, was a child, but I was to grow another child in my womb. I was pretty anxious and worried about my child, my life, and myself. My husband was really apathetic and wild. On top of all my responsibilities at home, growing a baby was added. A few months later, I told my husband that I could not work at farms since I had gotten a terrible backache. I could just do house chores. But he said, “I think you’ve forgotten that this is not your father’s home and I bought you from your father. I do not have time for your nonsense words. In addition, you talk as though you are the only woman who gets pregnant here.” I could pretty much hear the sound of my heart breaking, but I did not have any choice. The more days that passed, the more work we had at the farms. I did not feel good. 9 months passed as if they were 9 years. When I gave birth to the baby, I thought of my mom. I could not imagine how strong a woman was.
The sound of knocking on the gate pulls me out of my past thoughts. That should be my husband. I should open the door asking this question of myself: has woken up on the wrong side of the bed or the right side?
He is too afraid and ghastly. I want to ask him but he just says, “the village is going to be cut off by flood, so go and take the baby with some stuff that should be taken. We do not have time.”
Right now, not only he but I am also frightened. After 10 minutes we are leaving our home and are getting into our neighbour’s car. Some other people also want to leave their homes. We want to go to Kabul as Parwan is almost going to be cut off by flood. There are some women and children who are waiting for their husbands and fathers to leave their homes. My husband didn’t let me tell them to leave their homes as soon as possible and he pushed me into the car. I am worried about them but all I can do is just pray for them. It is around 15 minutes after we have started our trip when my husband says to the driver, “I have forgotten to get my money. Oh gosh! I should get back. Stop the car.” I am totally scared, but I am not alone as my neighbour and her wife are also with me. “You should continue your way; I will get back by another car,” he says. So, we continued on our way to Kabul. It is almost evening and we have arrived in a safe place. I do not know what to do now, but my neighbour says that there is his brother’s house and I can go with them. I have no choice but to stay with them. It is 10:00 p.m. but my husband has not come back yet. My neighbour’s brother has turned the T.V. on. The news reporter says that our village in Parwan has been changed into a ruin and has been damaged. Floods have destroyed houses. After hearing that news, we decide to go back to Parwan.
It is 9:00 a.m. and we have arrived and everything is damaged. Homes have been destroyed and my home’s walls have fallen down as well, and my husband is under the walls. I have shouted and people have come and helped me to bring him out but he is not alive. My husband has passed away. I am happy for his death as he had disturbed me too much and he used to beat me too much when he was angry or stressed. On the other hand, I am worried about my future and my child as I have to work hard to raise her, reclaim our farm, and repair our home.
The climate changes have destroyed all my life and happiness—droughts when I was in Herat and now floods. I do not know why I, and the other poor women like me, should bear the burden of these climatic hazards.