poem: young afghan girl

As read aloud, by a UC Berkeley student, at an event sponsored by Global Exchange and local Afghan-American women at Chabot College in Hayward, California on September 30, 2001 (note the date: the poem reflects the condition of Afghanistan even BEFORE the U.S. bombing of Afghanistan began).

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In the name of God, most Gracious, most Merciful

Fellow audience, I would like to welcome all of you and thank you for participating in this program for peace in Afghanistan. I would like to recite a poem by Zieba Shorish, who captures the pain of a young Afghan girl in Afghanistan.

RUINS by Zieba Shorish-Shamley

Dedicated to dying Afghan children

Elders tell stories that once in my land
People lived in peace united hand in hand
Various different groups; they lived side by side
They were brothers, sisters; had nothing to hide

Elders tell stories that once we were free
We had schools and teachers; we learned, we could see
Worked hard for the nation, women as well as men
It was viewed as normal and not a mortal sin!

Elders tell stories that once the land was green
Trees full of blossom, as far as can be seen
Rivers flowed with water, cool and clean as rain
Valleys full of flowers, velvet green the plain(s)

Elders tell stories, that though we were not rich
We were proud and tall, we had our own niche
We worked day and night; we had enough to eat
We were free and bold, could not accept defeat

Elders might be right, they would no tell a lie?
We might have been united, did not fight and die
Women had rights, children could go play
Ruler may have been just; people could have a say

I am a child of war, a girl of age fourteen
Fighting to survive; tortures that I