Letters to My Daughters

by Fawzia Koofi

  I barely knew you, my father, but I know I have inherited many of your qualities. When I hear people tell stories about you, I am always proud of your honesty, frankness and hard work. Even now, so many years after your death, you are still widely remembered for these qualities. That is an inspiration to me.

  I think that if a person is not honest to himself or herself, he or she cannot be honest to others. I know your openness and truthfulness made you different from the other members of parliament. I know you always believed in what you did and would stand by your values and the decisions you took on behalf of your people. These characteristics made you a great man.

  In my job as an MP, the very same job that you held before me, I often think of you and wonder how you would react to a difficult situation.

  Remembering you gives me the courage to remain fearless and determined. Over thirty years after your death, you still lead me and your family by example.

  I inherited more than your values, Father. I inherited your political legacy. It is a legacy I will never betray. Even if I know that one day, just like you, I will probably be killed because of this work.

  But I don’t want that to happen, Father. And maybe, God willing, it won’t. If I stay alive then perhaps one day I might even get to be president. What do you think of that, Father? I hope the idea of that makes you smile in heaven.

  With love,

  Your daughter,

  Fawzia

  · · EPILOGUE · ·

  A Dream for a

  War-Torn Nation

  { 2010 }

  LET ME SHARE a memory with you.

  Two years ago, I went to a village in Badakhshan to hear the problems of the people and to find out what I could do to help them. The roads were difficult, and as dusk fell we got stuck in a village. We had no choice but to spend the night there. The family we stayed with was one of the richest families in what was an extremely poor village. The house owner led us to his home, and on the way we were greeted by the young people of the village, who had lined up on both sides of the road to welcome us. After talking with them a while, we went on towards our host’s house.

  A beautiful young woman, aged about thirty, wearing ragged clothes and a deep red hijab, came out of the house to welcome us. I greeted the woman, and she bent to kiss my hands. I was embarrassed. I hadn’t done anything for this beautiful young woman or her village, so she had no reason to do it. I felt uncomfortable and didn’t allow her to kiss my hands. The woman, who seemed unhappy and worried, invited us into the living room. The room was small and dark. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

  When they did, I noticed she was heavily pregnant.

  The woman brought us green tea, dried mulberries and walnuts. I asked her how many children she had. She replied that she had five children, all under the age of seven, and was now seven months pregnant again. I was worried about her: she did not look quite right to me. She left the room again and came back with a big plate of sweet Afghan rice pudding that she had made for us. She spread out a cloth and then put the big wooden bowl of rice on it.

  Dinner was a good opportunity for me to try to engage her in conversation to get more information about her life. I started by talking about the weather.

  I said, “It’s summer, but your village is so high up in the mountains it still feels cold. In winter it must be very cold here.”

  The shy woman replied, “Yes, in winter we have a lot of snow. We can’t even get out of the house, it snows so heavily.”

  I asked her, “How do you manage then? Is someone helping you with the housework?”

  She replied, “No one helps me. I wake up at four in the morning, I clear the snow ’til the stable doors are clear, then I feed the cows and other animals. After that I prepare dough and bake naan in the oven. Then I clean the house.”

  “But you are heavily pregnant,” I said. “Do you still do all this on your own?”

  “Yes,” she replied. She seemed surprised by my surprise at her answer.

  I told her I didn’t think she looked well and that I was worried about her.

  She told me she felt very ill. “I work all day and at night I cannot move because I am in so much pain.”

  I asked her why she didn’t see a doctor. She told me that it wasn’t possible because the hospital was far away. I told her I would talk to her husband on her behalf and tell him he must take her.

  She replied, “If my husband takes me to the hospital, then we would have to sell a goat or a sheep in order to pay for my treatment. He would never agree to that. On top of that, how would we get there? The hospital is three days walking and we don’t have a donkey or horse.”

  I told her that her life should be more important than that of a goat or a sheep. If she was healthy, she could take care of the whole family but if she was sick then she couldn’t look after anyone.

  She shook her head and slowly gave a sad, wistful smile. “If I die,” she said, “then my husband will marry somebody else, but the whole family is fed by the milk of the goats and the meat from the sheep. If we lose a goat or sheep, then who will feed this family? From where will this family get food?”

  I have never forgotten this poor woman. And I doubt she is still alive. Multiple pregnancies, poor diet, exhaustion and lack of access to a doctor—any one of these things could have killed her. And there are hundreds of thousands of women like her across Afghanistan. The typical Afghan woman does not fear death and wants to keep her family happy and satisfied at any cost. Brave and kind, she is ready to sacrifice herself for the sake of others, but what does she get in return? Normally very little. And often, a husband who puts the cost of a goat or a sheep above his wife’s life. When I remember this woman, tears come to my eyes and I feel more compelled than ever to help all those others like her.

  I have a dream that one day all human beings in Afghanistan will have equal rights. Afghan girls have capacity, talent and skill. They should be given every opportunity to be educated and literate and to participate fully in the political and social future of the country.

  I also dream that the culture of ethnic divisions that has so marred our nation will one day disappear. I hope too that the Islamic values that have shaped our history and our culture are kept safe from false and wrong interpretations. The Afghan people are the main victims of terrorism worldwide, yet Afghanistan is known to the world as the main producer of terrorists. I hope that with active diplomacy and good representation, we will be able to change this perception. Afghanistan is traditionally a poor country, but we have great resources. We have copper, gold, emeralds and oil. I hope our untapped mineral wealth can be used to combat poverty in Afghanistan and to give our country greater importance.

  Afghanistan as a nation has witnessed great struggles. We have never accepted invasion nor have we ever been colonized or conquered. On the night in the nineteenth century when the British retreated from Afghanistan, in what is known as the First Afghan War, local tribesmen sang a song of victory. One of its lines went like this: “If you don’t know our zeal, then you will know it when you come to the battlefield.” This is an accurate statement. We are proud and fierce warriors by nature. We will always defend ourselves when required. But it should also be understood that we do not search for war.

  The doors of globalization and global opportunities, open to so many other countries in the world, should no longer be closed for Afghanistan. I dream that one day, Afghanistan will be a nation free from the shackles of poverty. I dream it will no longer be labelled the most dangerous place in the world for a woman or a child to be born. Around a third of Afghan children die before their fifth birthday. Our future generations are lost to us through poverty, disease and war. I dream this will end. Since 2001 and the fall of the Taliban, billions of dollars of aid money has been spent in Afghanistan. I am grateful for every penny of it, but unfortunately much of it has been wasted, misdirected or diverted into the wrong hands, such as those of corrupt local politicians or prof
iteering contracting companies who take great profits but build poor-quality roads or new hospitals without proper plumbing.

  Despite their good intentions, some of the decisions made by the United Nations and the international community have had mixed results. At a meeting in Geneva in 2002, it was decided the United States would train the newly formed Afghan national army, while Germany would be responsible for the police, Italy the justice system, Britain counter-narcotics and Japan disarming illegal groups. This so-called five-pillar approach had at its heart the issue of security, yet almost ten years after Operation Enduring Freedom began, Afghanistan is still far from stable.

  A large part of the problem is that for far too long now, Afghanistan’s leaders have acted as if the country is theirs to do with as they please. They forget that there is a whole nation of people living here—real people, good people with families and businesses and children and dreams for their future. Instead, Afghanistan has been run like the personal fiefdom of a few powerful men. The leaders’ agenda has generally been entirely selfish. In the case of the Soviets, Afghanistan was used as a stepping stone in their ambitions for empire, as they jealously eyed Pakistan’s warm-water ports. Afghanistan lay in the way, and as such was largely an inconvenience to be subjugated in the name of a political objective.

  Then the Mujahideen cloaked themselves in nationalism. They were the liberating heroes of our nation, and while all Afghans are proud of their long and tenacious victory over the Soviets, their desire for personal power led to civil war and nearly destroyed my country. It was their infighting and the ensuing chaos that opened the door for the Taliban to take control. The Taliban strove for a kind of great leap backwards, propelling Afghanistan into a medieval era of Islamic conservatism and hyperbole rarely seen in the history of the world or indeed in Islam itself.

  Little if any thought was given to the ambitions, hopes and welfare of ordinary Afghans. Ironically, it was perhaps the Soviets who got closest to doing so, building hospitals and learning institutions to improve people’s lives. But it was done as a means of achieving a larger strategic goal, not for the greater good of the diverse peoples who call Afghanistan home.

  Ordinary Afghans, be they Pashtun, Tajik, Hazara, Uzbek, Aimak, Turkmen or Baluch, have their own hopes for this country. Unfortunately, for far too long they have had leaders who are interested only in serving themselves, and in many ways that is still true to this day. The average Afghan politician has the attitude that once he comes to power, his office and authority becomes a personal plaything, to be used for giving influential jobs to friends and relatives completely unqualified for the positions or enriching themselves through bribe taking and outright theft. The last thing on their minds is the welfare and happiness of the people they are supposed to represent.

  Nepotism is rampant in Afghanistan’s political system. Family and friends are incredibly important in my country, just like anywhere else. However, our politicians have yet to realize that public office is about public service, not giving your nearest and dearest key positions in the administration—even when it arises out of a well-intentioned “I need someone I can trust; who better than my cousin/nephew/old family friend?” This is wrong. It is not the way to run an effective government and is a catalyst for greater corruption. The person appointed is not motivated by a desire to serve their nation; instead, his loyalty lies with the person who hired him. Decisions are made on the basis of what’s best for them, not what’s best for the people. Accountability and transparency breaks down, and the fundamentals of good government are cast aside.

  Sadly, while most Afghans dislike the way our government runs, many are accepting of it. Expectations of political leaders are low, and all too often dissenting voices can be bought off with a job, a contract or even just cash. And if they can’t be bought off? Well, sadly, my country is a dangerous place. People who speak out die here all the time, and very few of the murders are ever solved. Much is written in the world media about the kidnapping of foreign aid workers, a rare but very unfortunate occurrence. These people have come only to help us, and my heart weeps every time one of them lays down their life for a country that isn’t even theirs. But what the media do not report is how commonly Afghans are kidnapped. Every rich businessman in our country knows someone who has been kidnapped for ransom. Even small children are not safe from the kidnap gangs who want their parents’ money. For those reasons, most of the Afghan business people who came back here after the Taliban fell have left again—those holding dual passports went to Europe or America—creating a massive brain and skill drain.

  And that won’t change until the people whose job it is to run the country, in a parliamentary system, start to do things for the right reason. That reason is very clear in my mind. A person should be involved in public service only if he or she truly wants to serve the public. If all our politicians and government officials started to think like that, then there’s no limit to what could be achieved. The billions of dollars of aid and development money that has been poured into Afghanistan would go to where it is actually needed. The contract to do the work would be performed by the contractor best able to perform the service, not the one who pays the biggest bribe. The police and army would be loyal solely to their uniform and to the nation it represents, not to a corrupt boss. Local governors would diligently and honestly collect taxes and duties and deliver them to the central treasury. The central government in turn would see that the money gets spent wisely and efficiently on the ministries and projects the politicians have designated. And politicians would be bound to listen to, and act upon, the wishes of their constituents.

  I don’t wish to sound politically naive. All governments have their problems. But the best governments have mechanisms for improvement. That requires parliamentary inquiries in which members are free and willing to investigate and present their findings in an honest and frank way. It requires a judiciary that can act independently of influence and has the teeth to fight off any corrupting influence. It requires a police force disciplined and proud enough to turn its back on petty larceny and bold enough to investigate any level of criminal activity, no matter who is implicated or how powerful he might be. The international media recently reported that Afghanistan had been ranked in the top three of Transparency International’s world corruption index. That is a shocking statistic.

  So where does one start? I believe a sound government has to begin with a proper parliamentary opposition. Only when there is the political will to listen to the people and act on their behalf with honesty and integrity can things begin to improve in Afghanistan. This is my personal opinion, but it is one formed by talking to thousands of ordinary people. Many Afghans have given up hope and have resigned themselves to ever having an honest government. But they deserve so much more.

  Afghans have been fed a diet of rubbish politics for thirty years, and so it is no wonder the political health of this nation has suffered. As a country, we are politically malnourished and our national growth has been stunted as a consequence. This is beginning to change, though. I have several political colleagues who are genuinely listening to the electorate and acting with honesty and integrity. And in doing so, they are winning the respect and trust of the people.

  Much of Afghanistan’s success as a democracy hinges on two factors. The first is education. All children, both boys and girls, must receive a decent, affordable education. They need it for their personal future, but they also need it to make informed decisions about the future of their country. The second is security. There needs to be law and order so that ordinary Afghan families can build their lives in safety and peace. And when the time comes to elect a government, they need to feel safe during the act of voting and safe in the knowledge that their vote actually counts. Afghans generally want the opportunity to elect their leaders. They don’t, however, yet know what it means to have free and fair elections.

  If a genuinely democratic government can be established, then I hope that with time all a
spects of government, including the security forces, will form the backbone of a stable, free and just society. This involves something of a chicken and egg argument. Does security produce better government? Or does good governance produce security? The answer is probably both.

  And what about the Taliban, who stand for both and neither at the same time? As I write this book, the world’s powers are talking about withdrawal from Afghanistan. In my view, they are planning to withdraw before the job is finished and while war and conflict still blight our land. This conflict could at any point explode on an international scale. The warning that the great Ahmad Shah Massoud gave the West that terrorism would come to its shores is more relevant than ever. Unless our international friends start to work on a wider regional approach to tackle the Taliban issue, then the dangers to the world remain.

  Recently, there have been many talks about Taliban reconciliation and reintegration into the government. Much of this process has been led by the international community and its purpose is to serve the agenda of withdrawing their troops as quickly as possible. But that is a mistake. It is another short-term quick fix that will do nothing to solve the world’s problems, only store them up and make them worse for another day.

  The Taliban will argue that their form of conservative Islam is the only form of government Afghanistan needs, and that they alone can bring stability to the country. But it has been clearly demonstrated that their interpretation of education and health-care policy greatly oppresses at least half the population. And their views on security and justice bear no resemblance to what most people want or expect. Should they be given a political voice? I suppose that under the type of democratic system I believe in, everybody has a say in politics. But that is the point: politics is about talking, reasoning and persuading. It is hard to see how the Taliban will ever sit in a parliament alongside female politicians like me.