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"Women like me are not like women in Kabul"
"Women like me are not like women in Kabul"
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Beauty
39 posts
Sep 27, 2021
2:41 AM
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The interior of the house made of mud bricks was cool, clean and calm. A man called Shamsullah, who had a small son clinging to his leg, ushered his visitors into the room where they received guests.
A rug covered the floor and cushions ran along the walls that were at least two-feet thick. A few treasures were on display. A small cabinet with half a dozen tiny coloured glass bottles. But the family are poor, and any possessions they had were destroyed or looted during the last 20 years of war. slot wallet
The house was a refuge from the hot sun and dusty air outside. It was surrounded by high mud walls, like all the family compounds in the fields that became battlefields in Marjah, Helmand province. Inside the walls they were ready to harvest a few more puffballs of cotton to be added to the bale Shamsullah had already taken from the fields outside.
Shamsullah ushered in his mother, Goljuma. He said she was 65. She had wrapped herself in a long shawl that covered her head and body down to her knees, with a small gap so she could peer out.
Sometimes I caught the flash of an eye and the bridge of a nose. Goljuma's voice was strong as she talked about a life full of sadness and a war that destroyed her life and killed her four eldest sons. Shamsullah, the youngest, was the only one left. He was 24, but his face was 10 years older.
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bessierpon
200 posts
Nov 01, 2021
12:10 AM
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