In the Darkest Corner there is Light: Part Two by Jennie Hart

credit: Gencraft AI

Mother: a nurse

Kamel: father

Arman: elder son

Naghma: daughter

Babek: younger son

Mina: Babek’s wife

Part 2

At home with Mina, Naghma secretly pursued her education and was fortunate the family owned a laptop. So far there had been no government decree to ban internet access and WhatsApp was a popular chat site, but many websites were controlled by the state. She was thankful her brothers were supportive, unlike some men, who wouldn’t hesitate to tell the authorities if they disapproved of their women’s behaviour. A young woman who lived nearby, had carelessly gone out with her ankles showing and the guards had beaten her so badly they had broken her legs.

Naghma’s sister-in-law, Mina, knew she had been fortunate to gain a qualification in nursing, but since the ban on women working, she looked back on her past life with longing, despite its limitations. Confined to the house, Mina helped Naghma prepare the daily meals and was surprised that making delicious meals out of sparse ingredients excited her. She used cayenne and cumin, coriander and turmeric or whatever was growing in the garden, to transform basic vegetables into appetising dishes. Mina’s uncle ran a canteen offering lunches to city workers and when she was younger, she had learned her cooking skills in her uncle’s kitchen. Uncle had been impressed by her talent. Later, her main focus had been her nurse’s training, but now, every Afghan woman was rethinking her future.

‘When we are free, I want to open a restaurant,’ she said to her mother-in-law, Babek will help me, but for now, I will invent new recipes and share them with my friends.’  

‘When we are free’, was a daily aspiration.

‘It’s good to have a plan, to look forward Mina, I will help if I am not too old, or, if you have a child. Once I stop working, I could care for the baby. Let’s hope for an end to this cursed life.’

Mina’s other desire of course was to have a child with Babek, but she was still young and both had agreed to wait until their baby could be born into a safer world. Mother looked for the light in life too but she trembled at the thought of her families’ future.

Afghanistan was a nation of music and it was a terrible blow to all Afghans that the Taliban had declared music a corruption and had forbidden it. Naghma still sang to herself while in the kitchen and Mina often joined in. Mina sang with Babek too, but all knew the risk they were taking. They had heard of women being stoned for less. Arman just smiled and shook his head; too much was at stake for him. Before the repressive government, Naghma and her mother had played the robab, a popular instrument the British had likened to a lute and Babek played the doho,l a type of cylindrical drum. Mina played the mizmar, a wind instrument she had once played in the school band. Arman sang in perfect pitch but since the edict, he never sang. They were all afraid. Even the books they possessed had been scrutinised by the authorities and any with unsuitable subjects, had been taken away.

Mina was speechless at the music ban; her own mother had taught her the traditional dances of the region and when very young, she would dance and sing with Mother and their neighbours after the evening supper. ‘How can we ever dance without music?’ Mina said to Naghma, ‘It’s was a cruel law.’

Mother came home from the hospital that evening with Babek and she wept. Government officials had taken over the hospital, even entering the operating theatre, and by the end of the day, all women employees other than a very small handful, had been told to go home and stay there.

‘I’ve been caring for women young and old in that hospital for years and the personal care and kindness I give the women, cannot be given by a man. What despicable, ignorant cowards they are not to revere our role! What a sick government we have.’

‘How terrible for you Mother-in-law, and even more of our income will be gone; can we manage do you think?’ asked Mina.

‘We shall manage Mina,’ They say I will get a small proportion of my pay, but I am more anxious about those sick women. I am also concerned about my husband, I’ve heard nothing. Soon I plan to go again to Pul-e-Charkhi prison soon and make enquiries, but I can only go if Babek or Arman come with me.’

‘Poor Mother,’ said Naghma, ‘How can they do this to you? There is one good bit of news; the powers have decreed that women can go out alone in the city providing they are fully covered; you only need a male chaperone if you are travelling more than fifty kilometres’

‘Well, I can’t believe anything they say, probably tomorrow they will change their mind and I will be arrested for going out alone!’

It was Paternal Grandfather’s idea to take the musical instruments to his home and if they wanted to play them, the music would be muffled by his thick stone walls, his orchard and surrounding scrub. He lived alone on the outskirts of Kabul in one of many scattered dwellings.  Paternal Grandmother had died of a heart attack and grandfather blamed the Taliban. Grandmother had never recovered from her son’s disappearance and she had no longer wanted to live. Grandfather was grief-stricken at her death too but prayed to Allah on behalf of his son and hoped that no news was good news. Arman drove a battered old Toyota Corolla, essential for getting to work and agreed to take the instruments to grandfather’s hidden beneath some sacks of potatoes. Guards on the city boundaries randomly stopped and searched vehicles, so it was a risk, but Arman had some status in the city and was waved through. The next day was his day off and as mother no longer had work, unlike Babek, Arman agreed to take Mina and his mother to Grandfather Kaspar’s.  

‘We’ve been talking about doing it so let’s go today.’

 Naghma said she would stay to use the computer while the rest of the family were out. Since the Covid pandemic she had secretly been studying the latest papers on the behaviour of microorganisms, hoping that one day, women would work again and she could become a specialist in infectious diseases. She desperately wanted to heal children; she had seen their suffering and preventing illness in infancy was vital. Naghma was skilled in quickly closing down a suspicious website and opening an approved one should any prying Taliban call unannounced.