Misogyny in the Geography of Patriarchy
Yes! It was an incident on a corner of Kabul Street called Afghanistan. It was one of the thousands of scenes that were so sad and painful
By Sohaila Karimi and translated by Asadullah Jafari “Pezhman”
Her tangled hair looked like it had been cut. She had an injury under one of her eyes and may have lost her sight. She must have been struck. Her ears looked to be cut off, but her hearing was healthy in terms of sound, and only the holes in her earrings were torn. It was as if someone had pulled it by force. Somewhere, one of her teeth was empty. She was apparently about eighty years old with a dried-up and aching face.
But she told me her actual age was forty. Therefore, the suffering had made her very weak and emaciated. When I noticed her hands, she had painted them with the color of a pen, and she was in an unusual state and seemed crazy. But she was not crazy. She hung many rosaries around her neck, and the worn-out bangles of her hands occasionally caught my attention to itself. Next to her were a few worn pieces of pale old blankets and pillows. I thought her house was here.
Eyes Full of Pain and Suffering
However, as I was passing by her, I put a few coins in front of her, but her face did not spare my curiosity, and I had to sit in front of her and speak with her. Although I was scared, I complimented her on the ice cream in my hand, but she returned it with her hand. So, she was not crazy. Therefore, it was easier for me to talk with her, and I asked questions, but no sound came down her throat, and she had to answer me by pointing her hands.
I could barely understand what she was saying, pointing to her frail hands and the weak sound of her throat. The veins under her throat and behind her ruptured hands appeared large and rough. But she was sick, and it was clear that her whole body was struggling with pain and suffering. It was then that, in an instant, I felt my entire body in pain. My heart burned as if I had been like that tangled and suffered lady. I looked into her red and tormented eyes as if I thought they were bleeding.
The Answer Full of Sighs and Pain
Meanwhile, I had an oppressed feeling of what a painful and sad scene it was. I could do nothing for her at that time; even a single tablet of the worth of one Afghani I could not buy for her because it was a holiday in Kabul on Friday, and all pharmacies and clinics were closed. In front of her, I stared at her eyes, full of pain and suffering, and her head and face. At that time, the hatred pressed my throat at every moment.
So, I asked this sick and suffering mother. Dear Mom! Why did you get involved in this day and time? It was difficult for her to answer this question. I did not get my question-answer with her weak hands and voice. However, I asked again, “Where is your house?” And where do you stay at night? In response to these questions, she pointed to the blanket and pillow beside her. An answer that burns your whole body, and that’s it ...
Fear of Men
Therefore, She occasionally asked me questions, and I would answer her. There was a time when we became a little more comfortable and familiar with each other, and sometimes, a bitter smile appeared on her dried and rusty lips. In the meantime, a man was passing by with some of his children, and he stood there looking at us two. When this poor lady noticed the man was looking at us, she quickly turned her face away and asked me to tell the man to please get out of there. She was afraid of men, scared and hated. Therefore, I became more curious and looked at the wounds around her eyes and the cut in her ear, so I understood why this mother hates men.
StreetSide Shelter
Yes! It was an incident on a corner of Kabul Street called Afghanistan. It was one of the thousands of scenes that were so sad and painful. In a society where humanity and philanthropy are often die and destroyed in one corner of the world, and women are so brutally sheltered on the Street Sides. I was talking to this painful mother. About seven to eight years old, several children were passing by us. These children looked at this woman rudely and shamelessly and called her “whore and a prostitute” with their sharp tongue.
I was stunned and astonished at the moment and put my hand before my mouth. But this poor lady looked at the children commonly, as if she had heard a lot of these disgusting and nasty things on the streets of Kabul, Afghanistan. But my heart was on fire from this scene, and it was hard to digest these words. In a society where they call women like her prostitutes, from children to older men, what else can be expected from a Misogynist society?
Street Harassments
Eventually, If they do not say anything to women in the language at all, with their dirty and vague looks, how much pain they transmit to the women of this society, and how difficult it is to treat these pains. It is a land that has little mercy on young and older women.
With dirty and wounded looks, harsh and disgusting words, and street harassment, every day, the women and girls of this land are buried alive. Then, I looked at my watch, and then I had to get up. This lady extended her weak hands toward me, and I squeezed her hands kindly. While a bitter and painful smile was engraved on her lips, I said goodbye to her with a world of sorrow.
