‘When No One Pays To Protect Us, We Protect Ourselves, Until We Can’t’
An internally displaced Afghan woman who is a wakil gozar (community leader) recounts the life of her community
By Shazia* as told to Samuel Hall Staff
This first-person narrative is a part of our ‘Everyday Women Leaders Series’ which highlights everyday women leaders, their stories, and their hopes. This is the second story of our series. Read the other stories here.
I have been an internally displaced person (IDP) for as long as I can remember. I have an ID card and a passport. I am registered as a citizen to receive services, but I still feel uprooted and displaced, living in a camp.
Although I have a passport, I don’t have land or a house under my name.
I was seven months pregnant when my husband was killed. I had to raise all five children on my own. When war broke out in my area, I had to leave, and I came to this camp. I lived under a tent for four years, and now, I see the same situation repeating itself for all the recent arrivals.
Then, I built my own mud house. The house is mine, but the land is the government’s. The former government, and the current government, all came to push us out. But where to go? Why don’t they give us homes and lands to go to? Why won’t they sign off this land to our name and solve the problem we all face? For us to no longer be IDPs, we would need the government to take responsibility, to help, and assist us.
I have been through a lot. Now others are too. Women, specifically. There are 8,000 people in our IDP camp. They were all forced to leave their homes, with no land and no assets, and are in the same situation. None of us has anything under our name, even after decades of living here!
One year ago, they came again and tried to push us out by force. So we mounted our own defence, and we started fighting back. Women were then not only displaced but were also left without sons or husbands.
There are 80 women’s shuras (consultative councils) in our area. I want to help them with courses and schools, but I don’t know if it will happen. I will keep knocking on the doors. But I knocked on the municipality door six times last year, and they never let me in. I will keep trying for as long as I can.
Earlier, people used to be involved in wood cutting and plastic picking, there was never really any work, and there is even less now. The women used to have vocational courses at the least and had some training. We all have certificates to show but no equipment to display. We never received support beyond projects that ended with organisations that have left. None of it was permanent.
Our women can’t work outside. They are too insecure. We need to give them home-based livelihood opportunities or those to work on the land as they used to in rural areas. These camps are on government agricultural land — why doesn’t the government let us use it to farm, grow our livestock, and generate an income?
Our women’s shura (consultative council) sits every Monday and Thursday to align our priorities and plans. It is not about politics. It’s about security. If there is no security, there is no hope. But to be honest, our shura (consultative council) doesn’t do much. We are mainly just sitting and talking.
We are independent and not connected to the government, but we need the connections. Without those, we have no results. But, unfortunately, they don’t listen to us.
Women are no longer allowed into government buildings. We tried to speak to the municipal leaders about letting us come to their office to arrange courses and to plan for food.
However, they don’t have any system to listen to women. There are no female workers in the municipality. They let go of all the women who worked there.
When I went to the municipality, I was yelled at because some of my hair was showing. I have been to the municipality six times. I get stamped forms from the women in my community to show them what we need and ask for. They never once looked at our demands or our papers. I just ask for one of them to come and try to understand our situation. The mayor doesn’t accept to see women, but I am not just any woman; I am the head of an entire village, and I represent many others.
Overall, due to the constant uncertainty, we are worse off than ever, psychosocially and politically. We have fewer social gatherings today than ever before. We have more children working than before. Households are in a rapidly deteriorating financial situation. We are all more concerned about debt than before.
What will happen to our young ones? At some point, we thought we had a future here. But now, we realise there is no future for us. I don’t mind staying even under these circumstances but mind it for the next generation. How long will we be ignored?
We are going through a very challenging time. In fact, our camp is discriminated against by the DfA. They are helping other people and they have provided them with ration cards that provide food and some goods, but they have not given us anything. Our elders have been asking the district government several times to consider us as people in need and give us those ration cards, but have received no response from them. We need those ration cards to be able to access food. At the moment, I am making some food for the community.
I am honestly scared to be killed tomorrow. If you have followed the news, you will have seen that our area is where suicide attacks are known to happen. My son tells me not to go out anymore. He is afraid for my security. Some of our women were hit and had to have bandages and plaster for seven days.
Over the last few years, we have lost 200 people to these forced eviction threats. I have cried, I have screamed. I am so furious.
We were 200 women standing up to them when they came to evict us. In a context where no one pays for the armed forces to protect us, we must protect ourselves.
Our elders have been asking the district government several times to consider us as people in need and give us ration cards, but have received no response from them. We want our voices to be heard, we want the world to help us. We need help urgently.
- Name has been changed to protect identity
The interview has been edited only for the purpose of brevity and clarity.
