The Silenced Cry: One Woman's Diary of a Journey to Afghanistan
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 0312303513
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Tortajada's journey takes her from the slums and refugee camps in Peshawar, along the Pakistani-Afghan border, to Kabul. She writes about the revolutionary efforts of RAWA, the genocidal campaign of the Taliban to extinguish the Hazara ethnicity in Afghanistan, the failure of the international community to ameliorate the alarming situation of Afghan refugees, and offers a first-hand account of the atrocities Afghan women have been suffering at the hands of the Taliban.
The Silenced Cry is not only timely, but also compelling. With extremely evocative and poetic writing, Tortajada conveys the beauty of the landscape, and the wonderfully inspiring optimism of the people. In heart wrenching detail, we see just how debilitated and wretched the conditions were, yet we also see people who still fought for freedom, democracy, and basic human rights. Candid and compassionate, never condescending or pitying, The Silenced Cry is a human, approachable, and provocative look at the best and worst in the human spirit.
Unzipping Gender: Sex, Cross-Dressing and Culture (Dress, Body, Culture)
The Mommy Myth: The Idealization of Motherhood and How It Has Undermined Women
nod, and fall silent. Later the conversation moves on to the dual themes of history and literature. He recommends a book on Afghan history written by a Pakistani friend of his. I’m excited to visit this friend, who lives not far from Peshawar. I ask the doctor to write down the author’s name and the title of his book in the notebook I carry with me at all times. (Tragically, during our time in Afghanistan, we will have to destroy all our records, and I fear that this information has now been
employed. The entire process—from shearing the sheep to the carding and spinning of the wool and, of course, the weaving—is still done completely by hand. Traditionally, women weave the rugs on horizontal looms. The designs are done by memory and contain elements and touches characteristic of the different groups, tribes, and clans. They are heavily laden with symbols whose origins and meanings are so remote that today scarcely anyone can recall them. In reality, there are shops that use
widows. Some time ago she was able to get a job doing laundry for a foreign woman, until one day, the woman disappeared. Now, she begs for coins all day, saving up what she can. She opens up her bundle of worldly possessions, revealing a few crusts of bread and a plastic bag containing a few small tomatoes. “What did you bring us, Grandma?” is the first thing she hears from her grandchildren when she arrives home every night. The woman breaks down into tears: a disconsolate sadness that has
before any arrests are made. If we can get a higher level of authority involved, there is a chance that—hoping to avoid a scandal—they’ll let our interpreter and her companion go. Waiting for something bad to happen won’t do any good; if anything, they’ll lie to us and send us on our way with a few mollifying words, after which Palwasha and her uncle will be whisked off to who knows where, where they’ll be punished, tortured, and perhaps executed, just like so many other thousands of Afghan
A car is waiting for us down the street. Again, once we’re in a less populated area, we remove our burkas in favor of our chadors and our status as simple tourists. The friendly driver takes us to the next exchange, where we’ll switch cars again and continue on with the second leg of our trip. Our new driver is a young man with an easy smile who can’t stop looking at us in the rearview mirror. We have no idea whether we can confide in him or not, of whether he is a member of the Taliban or just