I Must

"A year ago, she would have gladly given an arm to get out of Kabul. But in the last few months, she has found herself missing the city of her childhood. She misses the bustle of Shor Bazzar, the Gardens of Babur, the call of the water carriers lugging their goatskin bags. She misses the garment hagglers at Chicken Street and the melon hawkers in Karteh-Parwan. But it isn't mere homesickness or nostalgia that has Laila thinking of Kabul so much these days. She has become plagued by restlessness. She hears of schools built in Kabul, roads repaved, women retruning to work, and her life here, pleasant as it is, grateful as she is for it, seems... insufficient to her. Inconsequential. Worse yet, wasteful. Of late, she has started hearing Babi's voice in her head. You can be anything you want, Laila, he says. I know this about you. And I also know that when this war is over, Afghanistan is going to need you."

This excerpt was taken from "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. Having just finished this book and before that, "The Kite Runner" by the same author, I sit here feeling overwhelmed by the knowledge of what so many individuals have gone through. These books simply make me cry with compassion...gratefulness...shame...empathy? The emotions are full, but indefinable. I imagine myself in Laila's or Mariam's or Hassan's or Amir's places. Can you imagine every day hearing the whistling sound of rockets being shot from the mountains over your home into some part of the valley or town? Every day, wondering if it is your house that will be hit, your friends' home, your grandparents'? Can you imagine the terror of hearing that sound coming closer until you realize it is your next-door neighbor's home they have randomly chosen that day? Or your own beautiful home, filled with people you love? Can you imagine your best friends out taking a walk and never coming home for supper because of random gunfire or rocket explosions? Can you imagine watching your town being destroyed bit by bit? A church today. The school tomorrow. Home after home as the weeks go by. Suddenly, going out of your home for anything is a risk. Neighbors and friends and family pack up and move far away. Worst of all, think of all the dreams you hold in your heart of hearts. The secret hopes. Those of marrying that boy you fell in love with in high school or graduating from college to go to medical school or owning a home or having babies or becoming a lawyer like your favorite uncle. Or seeing your grandchildren or finally going on the honeymoon you never got to have the first time around. The lost dreams...no words can describe the enormity of that. 

Many women in that country have such a struggle of a life anyway due to being married off at 14, 15, 16 to men twice or three times their ages. And some men still force the wearing of the burqua, for to them, it is only the privilege of a husband to see their wives' faces. Of course, this also means no working outside the home or being friends with women whose husbands do not enforce these rules. And then when the Taliban took over, they simply forced these rules upon everyone (From A Thousand Splendid Suns, some of the Talibanic laws-- "Attention women: Cosmetics are forbidden. Jewelry is forbidden. You will not, under any circumstance, show your face. You will cover with burqua when outside. If you do not, you will be severely beaten. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not laugh in public. If you do, you will be beaten. You will not paint your nails. Girls are forbidden from attending school. Women are forbidden from working.")

All this because of being different. The Shi'a and the Sunni. Or because of power. The Soviets wanted control, then the Taliban. Then after September 11, the United States wanted to help, and they began dropping bombs on the city to rid the Taliban; however, to the people that lived there, it was still another year of bombs destroying their homes, gardens, schools, hospitals...Thank God that at the end, things began looking a little brighter, and though some do not agree, Bush had made a good decision and progress began in that country. Yet I simply cannot comprehend that some people lived entire lifetimes in war. Losing children and husbands and hopes and dreams. I try to imagine myself in this situation, here in my home, in my town, at my job, with the circle of loved ones I have. Try to imagine hearing news of a rocket destroying a relative's home and with it, their entire family. I try to imagine not being able to leave my home without covering my face and being forced to quit my job as a teacher because I am a woman or because I cannot risk driving there due to the missiles being rained down on us. Or because I cannot go anywhere without a male relative to escort me. What a life we would have. How many dreams would be shattered. So many personalities would fade and die. When your biggest goal is to see tomorrow, it is difficult to hope or dream of anything more. 

And I am struck by the stark opposite my life is comparatively. I am a woman who works outside the home, with a loud laugh, my own personality, and my own mind. My husband loves me and encourages me to be me. In fact, it's why he loves me. He would be appalled at the rules set down by the Taliban or the traditional Muslim men. As would my father and many of the men I know. We live in freedom-- to leave our homes without fear, to go to church and worship our Lord together and openly, to write satire about our government, to disagree, to have a say in our country's laws, even to impeach our president. We are free to dream big dreams. I struggle with dreaming sometimes because I like to know ahead of time what will happen. This way, I am not disappointed. Yet I realize that I need to dream. For all the women who could not, who cannot, I must. For all the men who lost their dreams of family, of life, of success, I must. And I must continue to seek the Lord, asking Him, "How can I help?" I hear over and over, "To whom much is given, much is required." I have been given much. Much is required of me. But what can I do? What can I do? I want to ease suffering somewhere. Afghanistan is not the only war-torn country in this world. There are so many refugees, so many orphans, so many lost dreams. 

Lord, show me what to do. How to pray. Where to go. What to give. How to give it. Who to speak to. Who to touch. Show me, please. Break my heart again and again. Let me not forget that I have been SO blessed. And others need me because of that. Let me not forget to dream. Perhaps because I dream, someone else will be empowered to do the same. Bless those who hurt. Comfort those in sorrow. Provide for those in need. Hold them, Jesus. Give them hope.

For more information, visit the author's website at: www.khaledhosseini.com or go to the Office of the UN High Commissioner of Refugees (UNHCR) to read about refugees in various countries of the world. Also check out Relief International.