The Outcasts: What do women with physical disabilities endure under the Taliban's so-called Islamic flag?

Photo: Stefanie Glinski / The Telegraph

"The Taliban, with their mine, not only amputated both of my legs, but also severed my ties with my family and society..."

"Leaving aside the views of ordinary people, it was my own parents' mindset that caused me to visit home only once in twelve years, for just two hours, before returning to the nursing home for people with disabilities. I will never return again..."

"Not having legs is not my greatest pain. It is the humiliating looks and words of people, calling me crippled and limping, and hundreds of other things that increase my suffering..."

These are the quotes of three women and girls with physical disabilities, whose stories have been highlighted by Zan TV in a report about the situation of these women and girls in Afghan society.

Women and girls with physical disabilities say that they not only suffer from the loss of their body parts, but also endure severe depression and psychological distress.

Sitara, a star hidden behind the cloud of sorrow for what she has lost, is one of these women. Twelve years ago, while traveling from her father's house to the city of Herat, she lost both of her legs in a Taliban landmine explosion. She now spends her days and nights with her three small children in a damp and old room.

She speaks with sighs and sorrow about her suffering, from her physical disability to the loss of family ties and the lack of food to fill her children's hungry stomachs.

"Twelve years ago, the Taliban, with their mine, not only amputated both of my legs, but also severed my ties with my family and society. Even my own parents no longer see me as their daughter. The last time I was a guest at my father's house was twelve years ago. On our way back, the vehicle hit a mine. I did not understand anything else. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the hospital, my clothes soaked in blood."

According to Sitara, the Taliban's planted mine not only caused the loss of her legs, but also led her closest family members to cut ties with her and leave her in isolation.

Sitara says that at first, her friends and relatives were with her, but in less than six months, even her parents distanced themselves from her. Nearly ten years have passed, and her parents have not checked on her at all.

"At first, only my father and mother stayed by my side. But after six months, even they became distant. They said, 'What should we do with this crippled one?' Little by little, they abandoned me. Now it has been nearly ten years that I have heard nothing from them, and they have not asked about me."

She says that she has not only been rejected by society, her sister, brother, father, and mother, but also by her husband, who was the closest person to her. Four years ago, with the return of the Taliban, he left the house and abandoned unlucky Setareh and their three children in the city of Herat.

"It has been four years since my husband left the house, and I have no news of him. I live in this rented house. It is very hard when my children go to sleep hungry at night and cry from hunger until morning."

Sitara says that although she has no legs, she still goes to her neighbors in search of a piece of bread and washes their clothes and dishes in exchange for dry bread.

She adds that the harsh words of people in the community and her neighbors on one hand, and the lack of financial means to meet her basic needs on the other hand, along with her loneliness and having no guardian, have caused her to suffer from severe depression.

"Isn't it enough to have one sorrow? I must find bread for my children. When I go out, people laugh at me. When I go to a neighbor's house, they say a beggar has come. My father, mother, and husband have abandoned me. Who should I turn to? I have gone mad, I am mentally ill. What more can I say and to whom?"

Sitara is not the only one living in this miserable condition. Mahnaz, a 27-year-old girl, is another. Fourteen years ago, she became paralyzed in both legs and her lower back due to a traffic accident in the city of Tehran, Iran.

She has a bitter and similar story to Sitara's life narrative. Mahnaz says that after returning to Afghanistan, not only did people in society look at her with contempt, but even her own parents did the same. This caused her to leave home, and for the past twelve years, she has spent her days and nights in a care center for people with disabilities.

"We were going to a wedding. It has been almost fourteen years since the accident. The car we were in crashed and overturned. All members of my family were with me. Three of us were injured. But my injury remained forever. I am paralyzed from the waist down and in both legs."

The tears of loneliness and being rejected by her family no longer allow Mahnaz to continue. She pauses for a moment and then continues speaking with teary eyes and a broken voice.

"Ordinary people's opinions aside, it was the mindset of my own parents that made me go home only once in twelve years, and even then I stayed for just two hours. I returned to the care center and will never go back again. When I was at home, my mother used to say we cannot go to weddings or gatherings with you because people will laugh at us, saying your daughter is crippled."

According to Mahnaz, she has endured many hardships because of the attitudes of people and her closest family members.

"My father used to say he had no money for my treatment. In the end, with the help of a friend, I registered at the care center. In the second year, I went home but stayed only for two hours. I saw that the same attitude toward me still existed, so I returned."

Mahnaz says that after the Taliban came to power, she was deprived of attending university and is now suffering from psychological illnesses.

"The only hope I had left was to go to university and study computer science. But now, there is no hope left for life. I have thought many times about committing suicide, but I am afraid of its sin."

Shamila is another girl with a physical disability who, according to her, contracted polio during infancy and now lives alone in a rented house.

She recounts the bitterness of her life as follows:

"When I was two years old, my father passed away. When I was four, my mother remarried. I lived with my grandfather, but unfortunately, when I turned fifteen, he also passed away. The only person I had left was my sister, who was married. I lived with them for a year, but I noticed that my sister’s husband looked at me inappropriately, so I was forced to rent a house and live alone."

Shamila says that although she covers some of her basic living expenses by working in people’s houses, society looks at her with contempt.

"Not having legs is not my greatest pain. It is the degrading looks and words of people, calling me crippled and limping, and hundreds of other things that make my suffering even worse. I have no choice. I tolerate it and cry. Why do they call me like this?"

Shamila says that although before the Taliban came to power she used to receive an annual disability allowance of sixty thousand Afghanis from the Department of Martyrs and Disabled, the Taliban, despite cutting that amount in half, do not pay her disability allowance on time.

"Under the previous government, my annual disability allowance was sixty thousand Afghanis. I could manage with that. But now, the Taliban brothers have reduced it by half, and it is not paid at the time I need it. A year passes and only half of it is given."

It is worth mentioning that after several decades of war in Afghanistan, a large number of people, especially women and children, have become disabled. According to statistics provided by the International Committee of the Red Cross in Afghanistan, more than one million people are living with some form of disability, of which ten percent are war-related disabilities.