A section of Kabul, a multi-ethnic city in Afghanistan with over 1 million in population, is one of the poorest areas in the country. After my mother passed away from a supposed heart attack, my father brought my whole family, my two sisters and I, here. Going through a rough patch in our life, my father had done everything he could to provide us with food and shelter but our hard-to-meet daily needs had overcome his abilities.
Usually, houses in Kabul are known as mud houses, majority made of mud. People use local materials to build and roofs are constructed using wooden poles and tall walls that provide security. Nevertheless, more than one family, which can add up to ten to fifteen people, live in one dwelling, causing a major problem.
After my daily routine of hard work, I was just about to lie down and fall asleep, yet I had a gut feeling that something felt unusual, different, and tense. I couldn’t understand what was going wrong and why all of a sudden, things felt abnormal. Immediately, I left my bed and headed to my sisters room and check on them. Asal, my younger sister, was seated on the floor crying. Aisha, my older sister, was nowhere in sight.
“Asal, where is our sister?” I asked in panic.
“We don’t have a sister anymore,” she replied in tears running down her cheek.
“Asal, focus on my question! Answer me! Where is Aisha?” I re-stated.
“S-s-s-h-e is no longer with us,” Asal announced.
“Asal, immediately explain now, what are you talking about?” I asked in confusion.
“You know our family economy isn’t working out well, our house conditions are miserable, our roof is falling apart, our feeding needs are not being reached,” Asal started explaining herself.
“Asal would you please get straight to the point, where is Aisha?” I interfered.
“Ask father, he may explain.” She answered as tears dripped down her face.
I realized it was impossible to get a answer from Asal who had gone out of her mind from this shocking matter. However, father wasn’t home and I needed a answer urgently. I gathered my belongings in a hurry and rushed outside to find my father. I checked corners of our neighborhood, parallel streets, stores, bars, as well as others. Unfortunately, time was running short and our father was nowhere to be found. All I could do is head back home and wait for him to return. I waited on the stairs of our porch along with Asal as the clock hit twelve, slowly drifting to one, then two, then three, then four, then five am, and so on. Our father didn’t return that night and we were lost with lack of information.
The next morning, I find Asal and myself laying down outside on the porch as we had fallen asleep waiting for our father. As soon as I woke up, I instantly entered our house and saw father sleeping on the couch, who looked like he had a terrible hangover. However, I didn’t care what he felt like, I needed to know what was going on with my sister.
“Baba, baba, baba, ba wake up… Now!” I shouted; meanwhile, roughly shaking him so he could manage to get himself together.
After a few tries, he woke up and suddenly tears began to burst. In that instant, I understood our sister was not with us anymore; yet, still didn’t know the reason why. There was no need for me to force my dad to speak as he started confessing himself.
“Listen, Abdul, it all started when your mother left us. All these years I have tried to raise you and lead you three to the right path. I did my best to provide you food every day, supplies, clothing, and house conditions. However, each day the harder it got for me to achieve these necessary responsibilities as a parent. As you could see, our family financial state was just miserable since we were having fewer supplies and food each day. Aisha, Asal, you, and I couldn’t live in this shape anymore. Nevertheless, what we once knew as our home, our shelter, was about to fall apart. Therefore, I had to take matters into my own hands. The only quick solution to gain money in a country like Afghanistan, was to give something in exchange for the certain amount of money. The people that I had come to an agreement, requested Aisha, the youngest member of our family, in return for the money. And, so I did; unfortunately, I sold Aisha to another family just to provide you two a better life. Trust me, Abdul, this was the best solution for this poor, needful, and impoverished family.”
Before I vanished away from what I called home and family all these years, these were my last words…
“I feel ashamed that I have called you father for all these years. How would you dare to sell your own daughter for financial gains! Naming this act as a sacrifice would be an embarrassment to Aisha, Asal, you, and myself. You as a father don't even care what Aisha might be feeling or going through in a unknown environment with strangers. Even if we had no money, no food, no clothing, no shelter, nothing. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. At least we would be close and spend time with our loved ones as long as they are alive. You ruined this. We are not a family anymore, we are separated. Asal and I are leaving behind a person who does not care about relationship between family members. Goodbye!” I declared as I was getting ready to vacate our house with Asal.