How does the Taliban offer kidnapped women to Arabs, Pakistanis, and Chechens?
Author: Mohammad Osman Najib, retired Afghan army general
I will tell you a story that happened after the collapse of our country by the United States and its internal agents and 95% of the treacherous leaders, generals, and commanders of our people. This story is a humiliation of the honor and dignity of our people, especially our sisters, mothers, and daughters.
These tragedies that have just been revealed are examples of the thousands of hidden crimes the Taliban are committing against our people and our national honor. The “Afghan honor” that the Taliban and Pashtuns shout about does not exist and they provide sexual services to the Arab, Pakistani, and Chechen Taliban and terrorists so that they can satisfy their whims with our sisters, their honor, and death, who are ready to commit suicide due to gang rapes.
In this sad story that you are reading, the Taliban under the name of Qari Qais and Faizullah are themselves violators of the chastity and honor of our sisters, as well as the role of catalysts providing sexual services to the non-afghan Taliban.
Without any changes, I present to you this sad story that came to me from the newspaper “Hashte Subh”:
“My friend and I are talking about old times. From simple entertainment but great pleasures like going to Baghi Bala or Baghi Babur, celebrating Nowruz or Eid-al-Fitr, sitting in conversations with famous personalities, watching TV programs, or any entertainment that pleased us in this city.
My friend says that when we were little, we watched a TV show called “What Goes Under the Skin of the City” and it was interesting, useful, and educational, but today the whole city has become that program for me.
What pain and suffering people in Kabul are experiencing today and what is happening under the skin of this old city, no one knows except God and those who struggle with this pain and hardship. He goes into thought as if he has gone back in time and is immersed in his observation.
I'm interested in what he's saying and I want him to come out of his thoughts. What happened that in the middle of every word his eyes keep staring into space? I say, then we were small and did not know, but now I think we know what is hidden in one sentence.
They say that experience is the mother of science. He shakes his head and says, “Yes, ever since the Taliban came to Afghanistan, people have been whispering that girl so-and-so is missing!” “The Taliban kidnapped a certain girl or the Taliban arrested several women!” Where are all these missing women and girls? Does anyone want to find them?"
I answer: I don’t think. He goes on to tell me the terrible realities.
He says: “We have a neighbor, both he and his wife are doctors. One day, when we went to visit his wife, she was pale and upset, spoke little, and went deep in thought in the middle of the conversation, until we asked what brought you into such a state. You're in a bad mood!"
We joked and said that your husband is a doctor and you are not sick. He may not let you get sick, but she was still silent and depressed.
After listening to her stories, the same state in which the woman doctor was in began to cover us - me, my mother, and my little sister. Until now, we are shocked by the fear and barbarism of the Taliban, which talks about religion and religiosity. She says that when she is alone or hears talk about missing girls, these thoughts and memories come over her.
I say, can you finally tell me what she said?
Likewise, looking into an unknown place, he says, “She said that one day my husband came home late from the hospital and was in an upset state, constantly repeating words that I had rarely heard from him before.” I said what happened? Why are you angry? What problem happened at the hospital or did someone say something? He didn't answer.
I thought for a long time about what happened to my husband. He didn't talk much that night and fell asleep a little later than usual. The next day, while I was having breakfast with my husband, our doorbell rang. My son came and said: “Father, the Taliban are asking you.” My husband got up and went to the gate. Moments later, several Taliban entered the house and a ranger (vehicle) with armed men was standing outside the gate.
After long conversations, he said: “Get up, they say, you need to go to the sick.”
I was afraid and shaking, where are they taking us? I say: “The sick should be taken to the hospital. Why did they come to us? Are there not enough doctors in the city how do they know that I am a doctor and how do they know our house? What could be hidden behind this?”
The husband quietly said: “No, nothing special, don’t worry, I’m next to you.” Hearing his words, a relative calm came over me. We left the house in alarm and got into a military vehicle. As we got into the car, someone said in Pashto, “Bind their eyes!”
My husband is Tajik, I am from a Kandahar Pashtun family, and I realized that they are from Kandahar. I said in Pashto, “Why are you binding our eyes, aren’t we going to see your patient?” He looked at me but didn't answer.
Our eyes were closed. We drove along an unknown road with a thousand concerns. We walked from lane to lane for about 18 minutes, that is, it was not a direct path. Maybe we were driving somewhere near our house but we didn't know where we were going. We were taken from lane to lane. Then we entered the house, and a talib decided to take me by the shoulder to escort me out. The husband said furiously: “Don’t touch!”
I didn’t know exactly what place this was what we were doing here, where the patient was and what were all these soldiers with different faces doing here.
We were taken to the basement. When the gate opened, I panicked. What I saw was incredible, and I threw myself into my husband’s arms. About 30 young women were kept in the basement.
A woman lay in the corner with an IV in her arm, breathing heavily. At one point I realized my misfortune and what was happening to women in this country. Then I understood why we were brought here.
One of the Taliban soldiers said to a woman who I think was their accomplice: “Look at them all, who is pregnant, who is not, and what problems they have. Take care of them all!”
I got scared and panicked. I said, “How can I take care of everyone with one diagnostic tool?” He said, "Don't worry, we have a special room upstairs." We went to the top. It was a well-equipped room with all modern medical equipment, more like an examination room in a maternity hospital.
Like a pre-planned game, who played with our destiny and life? Who made our future so bleak?
We understood that something was happening. This place was not only a place of lust or ego control for the Taliban soldiers but was more like a factory for producing children, perhaps for their nefarious purposes in the future. I had no choice but to help. I calmly said, who will I examine?
Someone named Kari Kais, who introduced himself as a resident of Maidan Wardak and considered these women to be the legal wives of the Mujahideen, ordered me to solve all their problems and not to tell anyone what I saw here, not even my family members, otherwise they will kill my husband.
Because of the fear I had and the hell I saw my peers in, I accepted everything and saw no other choice. I told myself that I must fulfill my duty as a doctor.
I asked my husband, who was next to me, and also the Taliban to leave the room. Talib did not agree. I refused the examination and said that I could not work like that, I should be alone with the patient to better diagnose her pain. This is impossible in your presence.
My husband stood up and the talib followed him. But with his intimidating appearance, he made it clear that he would stand outside the door and watch me.
They called two women, and a few minutes later two of them came in, like a soulless body. At first, I didn't see the woman walking around freely and it was obvious that she was their accomplice, so I thought she was outside. Then I told the women present to bring one of the patients and the rest to help me so that they could be examined. They accepted.
The women came with nicknames like Beheshta, Hawa, and... One of these women was from Ghazni, a Hazara, and the other was a native of Kabul, a Qizilbash or Tajik. They came without saying a word or moving and then left after examination.
I asked Beheshta, whose name is different, how many women there were. She said: “At first when they brought us, there were six of us. Later our number increased. Some of them were taken away and not brought back".
What I heard was something terrible, and I could not believe that such cruelty was happening in this city in such a century. I asked curiously: “Aren’t you the Sharia wives of the Mujahideen? That's what they say!"
She laughed and said: “If we are legal wives, why aren’t we taken to official hospitals? We are the wives of all mujahideen,” and her eyes filled with tears.
I asked what does this mean?
She didn’t say anything, and from his silence, I realized that it was very painful for her to talk about it. I asked her to bring first those who were seriously ill.
They came one after another. Each of them had their own story and pain. One was from Jalalabad, her father was a judge in the previous government, and the Taliban, because they considered her father’s decision unfair, forcibly brought her daughter here because the judge himself had long since died. He didn't have a son for the Taliban to kill or imprison him as revenge. Hence, they wanted to take revenge on this innocent girl. She was twenty-five years old, and signs of torture were visible on her body. There were signs of bruises and a burn on her hand, but it was unclear whether it was from a cigarette, skewer, or something else. His wrists were bruised as if she had been tied with something hard or from physical torture or rape. When I asked to place a diagnostic machine on her chest and under her underwear, I saw cigarette burns and marks of caning torture on her body.
I didn't ask anything because I couldn't bear to listen to their answers.
Then the one who was at the entrance to the gate shouted: “Bring Dilaram.” They were all brought in for examination one by one, and I spent almost five hours on it.
Grief, sorrow, and constant rape... were their whole life. Some of them chose death over life, refused to be tested or take medication, and were not given the option of ending their life and pain.
One of these girls, who introduced herself as a resident of Kabul, begged: “Doctor Sahib, can you give me a lethal injection, I will forgive you my blood. I don’t want to live this life.”
I said, “Be patient,” and didn’t know what else to say.
She cried almost loudly and said: “I have not committed any sin. My father was torn to shreds in a terrorist attack near the German embassy. I have no brothers, I have several little sisters and an old and weak mother. Without any reason, one day they came and picked me up from the road and brought me here. I’ve been here for two months, I don’t know about my mother, I’m losing my breath, I hate myself, the fact that I’m a woman, and my existence.”
I asked, “Did they marry you?”
She said: “What kind of marriage? I didn’t see either a mullah or a marriage at all. On the evening of the first day I was taken to a solitary room and I searched every side of the room for a knife or suicide tool. Because I knew what would happen to me, but I didn’t find anything. No matter how much I prayed to God, no one heard me.
The room was in the basement, the only exit was the door of the room, which was also closed from the outside. I spent hours alone in the room until a talib came and with a trembling body, I cried and said that I had no sin, was not connected with the republic, and was not connected with the emirate. I am a helpless person and I want to live. He didn't listen to my words at all.
I was taken to the top floor. There was a room, the room had a toilet and a bathroom. I, who was in custody for several hours, was sick at the very beginning when I was taken away on the road. I washed my hands and face and hoped that maybe they would release me. I lived between hope and despair. A few hours later, a talib with long hair came into the room and asked me several questions, but none of them concerned me.
He then left and a few minutes later entered a room with water, fruit, and cakes. He offered me something to eat. I didn’t know whether I was hungry or not, I didn’t feel like it at all, but out of fear I accepted it, but didn’t eat.”
The victim said: The man who greeted you at the gate is Faizullah. He was the one who met me on the first day. This man told me about jihad, the benefits of hadith, and everything useful for them. He recently discussed Jariya and Jihadunnikah. Calling him brother, I begged, said that my mother was waiting for me, let me go, I’m just an ordinary person. It didn't work at all. He told me that he would let me go if I slept with him. At that moment, there was no one else except a few people. I refused and started crying. But this had no effect. Finally, he told me that if you don't agree, something worse might happen to you.
On the first day, Faizullah raped me without my consent. On the same day, several more Taliban came. I've been here for almost two months now. So far, more than a hundred Taliban have raped me and other women and girls. Most of them are Arabs, Pakistanis, and Chechens. Once they talked about “Afghan honor,” pride, and dignity, but today they sell their pride and honor to strangers and throw their women under their feet.”
Reading this tragedy makes the hairs on the human body stand on end and one wonders: what happened to our suffering nation, why did it happen and who did it? Where is the conscience of those who blocked cities and roads with twenty armored vehicles and had no zeal to defend their honor? Karzai, Ghani, and Abdullah have no honor. If tomorrow an army of nameless and fatherless children were born in the country, and each of them had a hundred fathers and grew up, don’t you think that the tragedy of the beginning of Islam will be repeated in our country?
Damn you, dishonest ones!
