Gathering Strength:. Peggy Kelsey

of People, Places, and Organizations

       Bibliography

       Reader Questions

       Acknowledgements

       Notes

       Suggested Search Terms

      Preface

      In the Western world, the media has led us to think of Afghan women as an homogenous group with one outlook and one set of generally horrific experiences. In fact, the country, its population and perspectives, are quite diverse. Afghanistan can be divided into three very different zones: the capital of Kabul, provincial cities, and the rural areas.¹ Thirty-three years of war and interventions have affected each of these areas differently and continue to do so. War has ravaged different areas at different times, while others remained relatively peaceful. Four major and three minor ethnic groups and two major languages divide Afghan women’s experiences. Despite this diversity, they have much in common with each other and with women around the world.

      I traveled to Afghanistan in 2003 and 2010 to photograph and interview women. I wanted to look beyond media stereotypes, to explore how Afghan women see and experience their world, and to learn about the strategies they use to surmount tragedy and challenges. At some point, the project began to take shape as a book.

      What the women say in the interviews may not always be correct according to history. What was said to me may differ from reality for many reasons. Each interviewee sees events through the lens of her personal history, biases, history of her ethnic group, circumstances, economic conditions, and personal psychology. I tried to confirm statements of fact when I could.

      Another factor to consider is ephemeral memory. For example, when I interviewed Tajwar Kakar in 2003, 18 years after her imprisonment, she said she had been tortured for a week. She told Doris Lessing,² who interviewed her in 1985, that she had been tortured for a month. I believe that in this case, Tajwar’s memory of the length of her ordeal was compressed by time and that the earlier interview was more accurate. Women in prison often suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and other mental issues stemming from the abuse they suffer before, and sometimes during, incarceration. A woman may also have private reasons for not being entirely objective or truthful.

      Dari,³ a dialect of the Western Iranian languages group, and Pashtu, a dialect of the Eastern Iranian languages group, are Afghanistan’s two national languages. They both use the same Arabic alphabet, with some additional letters. What are known to English speakers as "short vowels" aren’t normally written, but only vocalized. When words are transcribed into, for example, English, there is no consensus on vowels used. As a result, Bamyan is also spelled Bamiyan or Bamian; jerga can be spelled jirga; mujahidin as mujahideen or mujahadeen; and Band-e Amir as Band-i Amir. I have striven for consistency as being most conducive to readibility and comprehension.

      One slight exception is in spelling of names. Some women with the same name spelled it differently, as in Suraia, Soraya, and Soroya. Some names I never saw written, and in those cases opted for spellings different from other women with the same name. I also included an initial or other identifier if needed. For example, two young women in the Sports chapter, interviewed at their Taekwondo school, share first names with women I met elsewhere. I appended "TKD" to the dojo students’ names to distinguish them from others.

      Language conveys culture even outside of words used. In the flow of Dari, ideas may be stated, restated, and then summarized in each paragraph in a slow-paced effort to communicate. This can be frustrating for Westerners accustomed to "getting to the point," so I have edited the women’s words for redundancy, while making sure to stay true to their intent and meaning.

      At times, the language barrier created issues. My knowledge of Dari is limited and of Pashtu nonexistent. Interviews were conducted with and/or translated by non-native-English-speaking Afghan women, leaving room for imperfection. One humorous example occurred when I was talking with a woman who had been ill-treated by her in-laws, with whom she lived. She was quiet, soft-spoken, and seemed depressed. When I asked her how she got through her hard times, she replied that her "passion" helped her. Passion? I wasn’t seeing an ounce of passion. A bit later, another woman in the house replied to my question the same way and added that Islam had taught her passion. It suddenly dawned on me that the translator was thinking of the word "patience," and she confirmed this.

      As between any two languages, words that seemed to have similar definitions might have very different connotations. For example, the Dari word mobareza, meaning "struggling or trying not to give up," is often translated as "fight." When a woman told me that when someone opposed her she "would fight with him," her words seemed bellicose if not outright dangerous. Yet I found this usage to be very common, and mostly preserved it here.

      Tajwar and others always referred to the Soviet troops as Russians. However, many soldiers were from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics' (USSR) 14 other states. After one of my talks, a Kazakh man corrected me on this matter. His father had fought in Afghanistan and was very proud of his service. It bothered him that people only credited Russians with serving in Afghanistan.

      The term "warlord" appears frequently throughout the book. Although the term has become an epithet used to discredit those one doesn’t like, the Afghan women and I use the word according to the dictionary: "A military commander exercising civil power in a region, whether in nominal allegiance to the national government or in defiance of it."⁴ Warlords operate with impunity in the areas they control.

      The Arabic word for God, Allah, is used to refer to God throughout the Arabic-speaking world, among Christians and Jews as well as Muslims. In Persian and Dari, Muslims mostly say Khoda except when they are praying; then they say Allah.

      Identifying my interviewees without endangering them is an issue I struggled with from the beginning. It would be ironic and tragic if my efforts to help Afghan women actually made their lives worse. While I understand and respect the fears some women and/or their families expressed about being seen in a book, I don’t think this book will put anyone in any more danger than they already face. Most women I met used both first and last names with me, but I’ve chosen not to use last names except for women who are public figures. The book is written in English, and its price will limit its distribution in Afghanistan. The woman pictured on the cover, Sahraa, is currently living in Slovakia.

      Shakilla S., one of my translators, once said to me, "Women are women, Eastern or Western. If the children grow good, the country will grow good. If the children grow bad, the country will grow bad. The effect of all this is up to the women. We must help women in this situation."

      I have endeavored to present a balanced picture of Afghanistan and the thoughts of a wide variety of women there. Still, there are vast areas of the country and a few ethnic groups, such as the Kuchi, that I have yet to visit. Women who were thoroughly sequestered offered no point of contact and I avoided regions of active conflict.

      While I strived to present a balanced and fair view based on my knowledge and experience, I am the product of