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Escape to Ghazni Province in Afghanistan (1994-1995)

It was a very freezing mid night, The Strings of My Life curved our ways to a long, exhausted, and risky voyage. The fracture sounds of the buses, while passing from the hard stones, are still throbbing in my ears. The horrible sounds of shooting, blasting, and screaming of men members were very horrified. On the other hand, the lovely sound of my father was serene. He was holding me in his blissful arms, and telling me the story of “Bozak-e Chenney - a Chinese Goat”.
He was saying that, “Once upon a time, there was a Chinese Goat, which was living with its three children, Angag, Bongag, and Kolola-Sangag, on the Hindu Khosh Mountains. They had a small hut near a beautiful river, but there were lots of wolves near to their house. The wolves always used to come to river and try to talk to this Chinese goat. Indeed, the wolves wanted to know about the Chinese Goat’s children and their house. Their plane was clear for having of a marvelous lunch and dinner by hunting the Chinese Goat’s children. However, the Chinese Goat was very clever about the wolves around her hut, so was its children. they used to not talk to them, and share noting with them. As always, my father still says this part with lots of cheerfulness that “the Chinese Goat was cleverer than the wolves. Before going out, she used to hide her three children under grasslands of the river.
My father was stopped at the moment, when the bus was stopped.
Abruptly, two men with weapons on their shoulder entered the bus; some of them were outside the bus, standing next to the window, where my mother, my newly born brother, Jalaluddin, and my other two brothers were sitting. While, they screamed by saying, “Allah Akbar, everyone was jumped up of their lovable and peaceful sleep, my mother’s eyes filled with tear. She forgot to wear her veil carefully; therefore my father said very slowly that she should cover her face.
My mother put her black veil on her face and pretended to be asleep. I was only four years, but I had a big piece of a cloth on my head. My father said, “Close your eyes, and don’t cry.” On that time, I really wanted to be in my mother’s arms, I wanted her to make me calm by her murmuring song of “Lolo Lolo.” I fall asleep on the hope of my mother’s arm. Everyone was looking very scared. My father said that the men were searching for some people, who were in government during Dr. Najib’s supremacy as was my father. Finally, they took General Anayaat, 25, my father’s best friend, a member of the Afghan Military Force of the government, and his 6 years son. General Anayaat and his son have never come back. After that many armed men came and took the passengers from the mid of their destinations.
It was about four hours travel on the wreckage streets of Ghazni; still we had to suffer for more than two hours in that depressed and aggressive location of death.
Finally, a divine nap bonded us to Ghazni City at 5 am and felt the earth surface under our feet.
My parents say, “The long way to Ghazni was intensify intolerable for all of us. But till to the end of the dark clouds we were calm for our lives.”

Comments

eapa's picture

Precariousness and Fragility of Life

Thank you for sharing this inspiring story. This is a good reminder to all of us that many families, women and children most especially, have to unnecessarily live in such a precarious and fragile situation. This is a reminder that we shall carry on with our fight for a brighter, safer and more equal world.

parwana fayyaz's picture

Thanks dear Eapa:

I hope you are fine, thanks for your comment. Hope, happiness, aim, and honor always open the door to the brighter future, thus we have to live even under these precarious and fragile situations for our lives.
Thanks, Parwana

sallysmithr's picture

Wow

You told the story and I felt as if I was there, however I could not even imagine your experience. Thank you so much for sharing your story!!

Thanks again,

Sally Smith

parwana fayyaz's picture

Dear Sally, I am so glade

Dear Sally,
I am so glade that by sharing the pieces of my world with you all, you can see another world by my words, which is unimaginable for you all. Thanks, Bests Parwana

Jan K Askin's picture

The Power of story and Song

Dear Parwaz,

Thank you for sharing this story, one of many similar stories I am sure, that must be shared with those of us who know no such terror.

Your Father's story, your Mother's song. They have the power to assuage our fear.

Thank you again Parwaz,

Your sister, Jan

Jan Askin

parwana fayyaz's picture

Dearest Jan, you have given

Dearest Jan, you have given me the best nickname ever, Parwaz. I have heard of it a lot beside Parwana's name but never connected with my real world, but it is so much meaningful for me. Thanks, Bests Parwana

Frances Faulkner's picture

from a child's eyes

Parwana -
I love the way your story about the goat and wolves mirrors your own trust in your parents and their ability to protect you from evil forces, how you were able to draw comfort from them (and they were able to provide it) even at such a difficult, scary time. Relationships are all we have when homes and security are taken away and you honor that nicely. thanks for sharing,

Frances

parwana fayyaz's picture

Dear Frances; I hope you are

Dear Frances;
I hope you are doing well, thanks for your honorable words. Parents are always present beside us in every situation for protecting their children, and especially for me and my siblings my parents have given us the holy gift of heaven for living on the land of wars, discriminations, and weapons.
Thanks, for valuing relationships...
Thanks, Bests Parwana

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