She married 3 brothers in family torn by War
By Rod Nordland, Ny Times, May
26, 2018
Khadija’s
fate, at 18, has been to be widowed twice and passed down through a family deep
in Taliban territory. “I cannot talk about my dreams,” she says.
fate, at 18, has been to be widowed twice and passed down through a family deep
in Taliban territory. “I cannot talk about my dreams,” she says.
 |
|
Khadija,
18, has married three brothers, losing two of them to the Afghan war.
“I do not
want this husband to be killed by the Taliban,” she said.
CreditErin Trieb for
The New York Times |
KABUL,
Afghanistan — Khadija is 18 now, just a year older than the Afghan war itself,
and she has already been married three times — to three brothers.
One was a
Taliban insurgent, killed fighting the United States Marines. One was a
policeman, killed fighting the Taliban. One was an interpreter for the Marines
who is now hunted by the Taliban, who have threatened to kill him and his
infant son.
Taliban insurgent, killed fighting the United States Marines. One was a
policeman, killed fighting the Taliban. One was an interpreter for the Marines
who is now hunted by the Taliban, who have threatened to kill him and his
infant son.
The story
of Khadija and the three brothers she married is an account of war and
tradition that is tragically Afghan. It encompasses the bitter arc of the
Afghan war in its most violent place, Helmand Province in the south, the Taliban stronghold where many families have been torn apart by
loyalties divided between the government and the insurgents.
of Khadija and the three brothers she married is an account of war and
tradition that is tragically Afghan. It encompasses the bitter arc of the
Afghan war in its most violent place, Helmand Province in the south, the Taliban stronghold where many families have been torn apart by
loyalties divided between the government and the insurgents.
It is
also the story of women in a traditional society struggling against the lack
also the story of women in a traditional society struggling against the lack
of choice
their culture gives them in their own lives. Their Pashtun society considers it
the duty of brothers to marry their brothers’ widows — and leaves those widows
with little choice but to obey, or lose their children and their homes.
their culture gives them in their own lives. Their Pashtun society considers it
the duty of brothers to marry their brothers’ widows — and leaves those widows
with little choice but to obey, or lose their children and their homes.
The
details from interviews with Khadija, who like most rural Afghan women has just
one name, and the family members were confirmed by local government and police
officials in Helmand.
details from interviews with Khadija, who like most rural Afghan women has just
one name, and the family members were confirmed by local government and police
officials in Helmand.
Khadija’s
journey began in a southern farm community called Marja, which was once one of
the Marines’ greatest successes,
but is now a conspicuous failure of the Afghan government. Farmers there
mostly cultivate opium poppy, and regularly pay taxes to the Taliban.
journey began in a southern farm community called Marja, which was once one of
the Marines’ greatest successes,
but is now a conspicuous failure of the Afghan government. Farmers there
mostly cultivate opium poppy, and regularly pay taxes to the Taliban.
Even
before she was born, Khadija was engaged to her first cousin, Zia Ul Haq. Their
fathers were brothers and farmers who lived near one another in Marja.
before she was born, Khadija was engaged to her first cousin, Zia Ul Haq. Their
fathers were brothers and farmers who lived near one another in Marja.
At age 6,
Khadija formally married Mr. Haq, who was 15 years older — although the
marriage would not be consummated until she reached age 11 or puberty, whichever
came first, the family said. Child marriage is illegal, but still widely
tolerated in Afghanistan.
Khadija formally married Mr. Haq, who was 15 years older — although the
marriage would not be consummated until she reached age 11 or puberty, whichever
came first, the family said. Child marriage is illegal, but still widely
tolerated in Afghanistan.
Before
that could happen, an American airstrike struck a nearby house where Taliban
insurgents were said to be hiding, in 2010. Shrapnel from the strike killed her
husband’s 8-year-old sister, Farida.
that could happen, an American airstrike struck a nearby house where Taliban
insurgents were said to be hiding, in 2010. Shrapnel from the strike killed her
husband’s 8-year-old sister, Farida.
Marja was
a Taliban hotbed then and the Marines were intent on subduing it. In those
days, casualties from airstrikes
were among the biggest killers of civilians in the Afghan war, and public anger
was running hot.
a Taliban hotbed then and the Marines were intent on subduing it. In those
days, casualties from airstrikes
were among the biggest killers of civilians in the Afghan war, and public anger
was running hot.
After the
attack, Mr. Haq joined the Taliban. “They brainwashed him,” said Mr. Haq’s
youngest brother, Shamsullah Shamsuddin, 19. “At first they forced him to join,
but then they persuaded him.”
attack, Mr. Haq joined the Taliban. “They brainwashed him,” said Mr. Haq’s
youngest brother, Shamsullah Shamsuddin, 19. “At first they forced him to join,
but then they persuaded him.”
From time
to time, their Taliban brother visited. But then it got hard to do so as more
Marines poured into Marja. The Americans arrived saying they would not only
destroy Taliban control, but would deliver a vaunted “government in a box,” providing services like schools and
electricity that the community sorely lacked.
to time, their Taliban brother visited. But then it got hard to do so as more
Marines poured into Marja. The Americans arrived saying they would not only
destroy Taliban control, but would deliver a vaunted “government in a box,” providing services like schools and
electricity that the community sorely lacked.
A year
went by with no word from Khadija’s husband until one night a Taliban
delegation came with his body wrapped in a shroud — his shoulder blown off from
a gunshot wound, one of many — and turned it over to the family.
went by with no word from Khadija’s husband until one night a Taliban
delegation came with his body wrapped in a shroud — his shoulder blown off from
a gunshot wound, one of many — and turned it over to the family.
Khadija
was a widow at age 10.
was a widow at age 10.
Two of
Mr. Haq’s other brothers became policemen, because the pay was good and there
was little alternative employment in the middle of war.
Mr. Haq’s other brothers became policemen, because the pay was good and there
was little alternative employment in the middle of war.
 |
| Aminullah, left, and Hayatullah were brothers of Khadija’s first husband. Both joined the police, and both were killed. Khadija had married Aminullah after his brother’s death.CreditErin Trieb for The New York Times |
Khadija
then married one of them: Mr. Haq’s next oldest brother, Aminullah. It was her
father’s decision, and she said she knew she had no choice in the matter.
then married one of them: Mr. Haq’s next oldest brother, Aminullah. It was her
father’s decision, and she said she knew she had no choice in the matter.
Aminullah,
22, was fabled as a fighter with the Afghan police, his family members said.
“He could handle every kind of heavy weapon, and the Taliban were afraid of
him,” Mr. Shamsuddin said.
22, was fabled as a fighter with the Afghan police, his family members said.
“He could handle every kind of heavy weapon, and the Taliban were afraid of
him,” Mr. Shamsuddin said.
Khadija
raves about Aminullah, too. “He promised when he came home that I could remove
my burqa, and he was going to bring me good clothes, and we would have a good
life,” she said. “He was a good man, and a good husband.”
raves about Aminullah, too. “He promised when he came home that I could remove
my burqa, and he was going to bring me good clothes, and we would have a good
life,” she said. “He was a good man, and a good husband.”
He was
also fiercely devoted to the government’s cause, just the opposite of his
Taliban brother, Khadija said. “He would say, ‘I will never leave my country to
them, as long as there is blood in my body, I will fight them.’ Whenever he
went out, I was always watching the door until he came back.”
also fiercely devoted to the government’s cause, just the opposite of his
Taliban brother, Khadija said. “He would say, ‘I will never leave my country to
them, as long as there is blood in my body, I will fight them.’ Whenever he
went out, I was always watching the door until he came back.”
“I lost
him and I was thinking, ‘How could this happen to me?’ But it is God’s
decision, so I can say nothing.”
She was
pregnant with their daughter when Aminullah did not come back, in 2014. He was
killed on the highway by a roadside bomb. The Taliban were so delighted, Mr. Shamsuddin
said, that they slaughtered sheep in celebration, distributing the meat to
their neighborhood in Marja.
pregnant with their daughter when Aminullah did not come back, in 2014. He was
killed on the highway by a roadside bomb. The Taliban were so delighted, Mr. Shamsuddin
said, that they slaughtered sheep in celebration, distributing the meat to
their neighborhood in Marja.
“I lost
him and I was thinking, ‘How could this happen to me?” she said. “But it is
God’s decision, so I can say nothing.”
him and I was thinking, ‘How could this happen to me?” she said. “But it is
God’s decision, so I can say nothing.”
Mr.
Shamsuddin said that the family fled Marja and moved to Lashkar Gah, the
provincial capital. After they left, the Taliban burned down their old house,
he said.
Shamsuddin said that the family fled Marja and moved to Lashkar Gah, the
provincial capital. After they left, the Taliban burned down their old house,
he said.
At age
14, Khadija gave birth to her daughter, Roqia, a few months later. After
waiting the Quranic-stipulated four months and 10 days after Aminullah’s death,
Khadija married Mr. Shamsuddin, the youngest brother, in 2015.
14, Khadija gave birth to her daughter, Roqia, a few months later. After
waiting the Quranic-stipulated four months and 10 days after Aminullah’s death,
Khadija married Mr. Shamsuddin, the youngest brother, in 2015.
Years
before, probably when he was around 14, though he is hazy on the dates, Mr.
Shamsuddin had begun hanging around the Marines’ base in Marja and quickly
picked up English from the troops. Soon they hired him as an interpreter, for
the comparatively princely sum of $25 a day.
before, probably when he was around 14, though he is hazy on the dates, Mr.
Shamsuddin had begun hanging around the Marines’ base in Marja and quickly
picked up English from the troops. Soon they hired him as an interpreter, for
the comparatively princely sum of $25 a day.
That job
ended when the Marines left Afghanistan in 2013. Today, Mr. Shamsuddin earns $5
a day as a rickshaw driver in Lashkar Gah and is the sole support for both his own growing
family and his extended family, with at least half a dozen members.
ended when the Marines left Afghanistan in 2013. Today, Mr. Shamsuddin earns $5
a day as a rickshaw driver in Lashkar Gah and is the sole support for both his own growing
family and his extended family, with at least half a dozen members.
Gul Juma,
Mr. Shamsuddin’s mother, now has only three children left of her 11. Two young
sons died of disease, and her 21-year-old son, Hayatullah, also a policeman,
was killed in a so-called blue on blue, or insider, attack by a Taliban infiltrator, only a few months before
Aminullah’s death.
Mr. Shamsuddin’s mother, now has only three children left of her 11. Two young
sons died of disease, and her 21-year-old son, Hayatullah, also a policeman,
was killed in a so-called blue on blue, or insider, attack by a Taliban infiltrator, only a few months before
Aminullah’s death.
Mr.
Shamsuddin is her last surviving son.
Shamsuddin is her last surviving son.
He is
proud that he is not, as he put it, “a typical Pashtun man.” When Khadija’s
father, his uncle, proposed that Khadija marry him, Mr. Shamsuddin said the
decision was up to her.
proud that he is not, as he put it, “a typical Pashtun man.” When Khadija’s
father, his uncle, proposed that Khadija marry him, Mr. Shamsuddin said the
decision was up to her.
“We
didn’t force her to marry me, although we could have,” he said. “I had the
ambition to marry someone else, but she was my brother’s widow, so I had no
choice.”
didn’t force her to marry me, although we could have,” he said. “I had the
ambition to marry someone else, but she was my brother’s widow, so I had no
choice.”
Khadija
was listening as Mr. Shamsuddin said it, and responded, politely, that it was
not quite like that. “Uncle’s Son did not force me to marry him,” she said
using a polite term for her husband, “but under Pashtun culture, I had no other
choice.”
was listening as Mr. Shamsuddin said it, and responded, politely, that it was
not quite like that. “Uncle’s Son did not force me to marry him,” she said
using a polite term for her husband, “but under Pashtun culture, I had no other
choice.”
“Once, I
wanted to study and be an educated woman who could stand on my own two feet,
but in my culture it is not possible.”
Widows
cannot work, like most women in traditional areas, and any inheritance or
property would go to her husband’s brothers, not to his widow or children.
cannot work, like most women in traditional areas, and any inheritance or
property would go to her husband’s brothers, not to his widow or children.
She and
Mr. Shamsuddin have a son together now, Sayed Rahman, 1. The Taliban have Mr.
Shamsuddin’s phone number and often call him, he said. “They say they will kill
me and then kill Sayed Rahman,” he said.
Mr. Shamsuddin have a son together now, Sayed Rahman, 1. The Taliban have Mr.
Shamsuddin’s phone number and often call him, he said. “They say they will kill
me and then kill Sayed Rahman,” he said.
 |
|
Shamsullah
and Khadija, their son, Sayed Rahman, 1, and Shamsullah’s mother,
Gul Juma, in
Kabul in April.CreditErin Trieb for The New York Times |
Khadija
and Mr. Shamsuddin spoke frankly about their disappointments, though they
showed no bitterness toward each other.
and Mr. Shamsuddin spoke frankly about their disappointments, though they
showed no bitterness toward each other.
“My wife
is very strong. Some lesser person would not have survived what she has
survived,” Mr. Shamsuddin said. “She is not expecting very much from me;
financially I don’t have much to give her, just good words and good behavior.
Even though I believe men should beat women when they don’t listen, I have
never had to beat her. I guess I give her respect even more because of my
brothers.”
is very strong. Some lesser person would not have survived what she has
survived,” Mr. Shamsuddin said. “She is not expecting very much from me;
financially I don’t have much to give her, just good words and good behavior.
Even though I believe men should beat women when they don’t listen, I have
never had to beat her. I guess I give her respect even more because of my
brothers.”
Mr.
Shamsuddin said it is a sad responsibility, marrying the wife of a dead
brother. “When you look at her, you always see your brother,” he said.
Shamsuddin said it is a sad responsibility, marrying the wife of a dead
brother. “When you look at her, you always see your brother,” he said.
It was a
sadness for Khadija, too.
sadness for Khadija, too.
“Once I
had dreams, but I cannot talk about my dreams with anyone, because I am a
woman,” she said. “Once I wanted to study and be an educated woman who could
stand on my own two feet, but in my culture it is not possible. Now my biggest
dream is that I do not want this husband to be killed by the Taliban. I ask God
to protect him.”
had dreams, but I cannot talk about my dreams with anyone, because I am a
woman,” she said. “Once I wanted to study and be an educated woman who could
stand on my own two feet, but in my culture it is not possible. Now my biggest
dream is that I do not want this husband to be killed by the Taliban. I ask God
to protect him.”
Mr.
Shamsuddin also had his dreams. He earned a lot of money working for the
Marines, before his marriage, and through intermediaries he had approached the
father of a woman named Halima to marry her. The father had approved the match.
Shamsuddin also had his dreams. He earned a lot of money working for the
Marines, before his marriage, and through intermediaries he had approached the
father of a woman named Halima to marry her. The father had approved the match.
Then,
suddenly, the Marines were gone, he was jobless, his brother was dead. He married
Khadija; Halima married another policeman.
suddenly, the Marines were gone, he was jobless, his brother was dead. He married
Khadija; Halima married another policeman.
“I told
my wife about Halima, because we both shared the same destiny in a way: We
couldn’t choose who we ended up with. Sometimes she teases me if we have an
argument, ‘Oh, you love Halima too much.’”
my wife about Halima, because we both shared the same destiny in a way: We
couldn’t choose who we ended up with. Sometimes she teases me if we have an
argument, ‘Oh, you love Halima too much.’”
It is not
exactly that Mr. Shamsuddin does not love Khadija. “She is beautiful enough for
me, and as a person I like her,” he said. “We are like friends, we have fun
together, tease each other. But love? We are happy with each other so you could
say I love her. But I was severely in love with Halima. When I think of her I
get a pain in my heart.” He beat his chest there with his fist, twice.
exactly that Mr. Shamsuddin does not love Khadija. “She is beautiful enough for
me, and as a person I like her,” he said. “We are like friends, we have fun
together, tease each other. But love? We are happy with each other so you could
say I love her. But I was severely in love with Halima. When I think of her I
get a pain in my heart.” He beat his chest there with his fist, twice.
Khadija
described much the same feeling for her late husband Aminullah. “No man has
ever kissed me but him,” she said. “Now I can only kiss my son.” When she
thinks about Aminullah, breathing becomes difficult, she said. “I cry when I’m
alone.”
described much the same feeling for her late husband Aminullah. “No man has
ever kissed me but him,” she said. “Now I can only kiss my son.” When she
thinks about Aminullah, breathing becomes difficult, she said. “I cry when I’m
alone.”
“If he
joins the police, I am sure the Taliban will kill him in two or three months.”
Earlier
this year, Halima’s policeman husband was killed by the Taliban. Mr. Shamsuddin
then wanted to take her as a second wife, and he said Halima was open to it. “I
just don’t have enough money to take care of a second wife, that’s the only problem.
And of course I would have to discuss it with my wife and my mother.”
this year, Halima’s policeman husband was killed by the Taliban. Mr. Shamsuddin
then wanted to take her as a second wife, and he said Halima was open to it. “I
just don’t have enough money to take care of a second wife, that’s the only problem.
And of course I would have to discuss it with my wife and my mother.”
So now he
plans to join the police force in Helmand, as his brothers did. The pay is four
or five times as much as what he earns with his rickshaw. Casualty rates are
much higher among Afghan
policemen than soldiers or other security forces, and those rates
are highest of all in Helmand Province. But he might earn enough to afford to
marry Halima.
plans to join the police force in Helmand, as his brothers did. The pay is four
or five times as much as what he earns with his rickshaw. Casualty rates are
much higher among Afghan
policemen than soldiers or other security forces, and those rates
are highest of all in Helmand Province. But he might earn enough to afford to
marry Halima.
As Mr.
Shamsuddin spoke of this, his wife and mother were in the other room. Had he
told them of his police plans? “I didn’t tell my mother or my wife: Men should
not be sharing such decisions with women,” Mr. Shamsuddin said. “I’ll tell them
after.”
Shamsuddin spoke of this, his wife and mother were in the other room. Had he
told them of his police plans? “I didn’t tell my mother or my wife: Men should
not be sharing such decisions with women,” Mr. Shamsuddin said. “I’ll tell them
after.”
 |
| Shamsullah plans to join the police force in Helmand Province, as his brothers did. But, he said, “I didn’t tell my mother or my wife.”CreditErin Trieb for The New York Times |
Afterward
the women went off by themselves, talking to female visitors, including a Times
journalist. “I know he wants to join the police, but we will never allow him,”
Khadija said. “If he joins the police, I am sure the Taliban will kill him in
two or three months. And after that, what can we do? Who is going to protect
this small baby?”
Khadija
scoffed at the talk of Mr. Shamsuddin’s marrying Halima, which she was also
aware of.
scoffed at the talk of Mr. Shamsuddin’s marrying Halima, which she was also
aware of.
“Uncle’s
Son could never marry her,” she said. “She has 10 brothers-in-law, and they
would never allow her to marry outside their family. He is dreaming.”
Son could never marry her,” she said. “She has 10 brothers-in-law, and they
would never allow her to marry outside their family. He is dreaming.”
