From Kabul to the World | Column  5

The Court of Conscience: Afghan Women Break their Silenced

 The people’s tribunal in Madrid became a place where the hidden pain of Afghan women finally came to light. It was more a court; it was a space for truth,  a space where women who had been silenced could finally speak. For years, Afghan women carried the weight of their pain quietly inside dark rooms and lonely nights. But in Madrid, their voices broke through the silence. This tribunal may not send anyone to prison, but it forced the world to listen. It made people see the unbelievable pain Afghan women live with every day. In this courtroom, the real judge was not a person, it was the conscience of humanity. When I listened to their testimonies, I was shocked. I could feel their pain deep inside me. Being an Afghan woman means carrying scars that never heal and memories that never fade.

Parwana said:

I was in the prison. They tortured me even when I was on my period. They beat my head and my face so much that I prayed for death. I wished for a thick jacket to protect me from the blows but I had nothing only pain. 

Hamidi said: 

When they arrested me, they beat me so hard that I could not even lift my hands to protect myself. The car that took me to the prison was driving too fast, and I was terrified. I lost count of the nights I couldn’t sleep, afraid they would come and rape me. I thought to kill myself but I couldn’t do it. Now I’m no longer a young girl; I feel as old as a woman who has lived a lifetime of pain. 

She also added: 

When I was finally released at night, I couldn’t even say goodbye to the other women. I just hit the wall with my fist, so they would know I was free and that if they don’t survive I will be their voice.  

Then came the testimony that broke everyone’s heart, the story of a hazara woman teacher who had secretly continued to teach girls after the schools were closed. She said, she will not let education die even at the cost of her life. Taliban found her and stormed her house, beat her in front of her students and took her away. She said when I opened my eyes, I was lying in blood, my body was hurting where I realized that they had raped me I screamed and cried but no one came. They said; Hazara women are halal for us. I wish I had died before that night. 

Those words still echo in my mind. How can the world stay silent after hearing such truth? How can we call ourselves human if such things happen, and we turn away? 

When I think of these women, I cry not just for what happened to them but for what Afghanistan has become. A place where being a woman is a crime, where teaching girls is acting rebellion, and where hope is punished. Maybe this tribunal will not bring justice for now, but it will make the world remember. Maybe it will force the world to call what is happening in Afghanistan by its real name Gender Apartheid.  Even if one day the world changes, everything becomes better, do you think these women will ever be okay again?

Will they forget these horrible moments? 

Will their wounds stop hurting?

Will they stop fearing the sound of doors at night? 

No they will never heal completely. 

As I listened to their stories, I felt that the tears of Afghan women could fill an ocean. And yet, there is a small flame in the ocean, the flame of a hope, of a truth. 

History and   the world owes these women a debt that will never be paid. Their pain is now part of our collective memory, and their voices will echo until justice finally comes.