Afghan activist, politician and Taliban critic Zarifa Ghafari tells the inspiring story of her life in Afghanistan and subsequent escape in August 2021, in her book Zarifa, written with Hannah Lucinda Smith
Book of the month
Review by Olivia Edward
In August 2021, as US forces finally retreated from Afghanistan, scenes of Afghan citizens converging upon Kabul’s airport, desperate to secure a place on one of the final US flights, became all too familiar. Towards the end of this book, we find Zarifa Ghafari and her family crushed in among those airport crowds, forming a human chain as they frantically attempt to make it through the airport gates to freedom.
As an advocate of women’s rights and an outspoken critic of the Taliban, Zarifa knows that she and her family are particularly at risk if they fall into the hands of the insurgent troops who are prowling around the airport, alternately beating and shooting at the fleeing masses. Thwarted again and again, Zarifa finally believes that she has found a way through when a member of the throng lets her know that there’s a side entrance to the airport and offers to show her the way.
Just as she’s about to head down the sandy alley, a chilling intuition comes over her and she pauses for a few milliseconds – long enough to see a friend waving wildly behind her, warning her not to go down there. It’s a trap, he says and the Taliban are waiting for her on the other side. Turning back, she again pushes forward towards the airport gates. But although she’s already on the evacuation lists for a number of countries, she still can’t find a soldier who will let them through.
Eventually, amid the chaos, Zarifa spots a Turkish flag on a soldier’s uniform and repeatedly calls a contact at the Turkish embassy until, eventually, the mobile signals un-jam and he arranges their safe passage. Finally, they are let through and swallowed up into the sanctuary of the plane’s belly.
For many, this would be the most astounding and terrifying story of their lives, but for Zarifa, it’s seemingly just another episode in a remarkable and courageous existence that has largely been devoted to public service and activism.
Born in 1994 with the sound of gunfire and mortar shells echoing in the distance, by her mid-20s, she had already set up a radio station to advocate for women’s rights in one of Afghanistan’s most Taliban-saturated provinces, before going on to become the country’s youngest female mayor, and from there taking up a position at the Ministry of Defence.
Along the way, she survives numerous assassination attempts, including a gruesome incident in which she’s set alight after her trusted cleaning lady leaves the gas running on her stove. With the flesh melting off her legs, she runs out into the corridor and begs for water to be thrown over her: ‘A putrid black smoke rose from my feet. Then, like a thunder clap, the agony, as if a fanged dog was tearing chunks of flesh from me, with acid then poured onto the wounds.’
Brave doesn’t even cover it. Weeks are spent in hospital in agonising pain but it’s only when she sees the social media comments on her attack – speculating that she set light to herself, or simply made the attack up to gain publicity – that she breaks down in tears.
Her father, a military trainer, is supportive but steely in his response. ‘Societies like ours can’t deal with a woman, or challenge her with their efforts and their abilities,’ he tells her. ‘Instead they try to break her. Harm her by harming her dignity. This is part of the game. If you can’t accept it, then give up and stay at home.’
It’s blunt, but nothing Zarifa doesn’t already know. Even as a girl, subjected to outfit critiques by teenage boys, she quickly realised that her detractors couldn’t be silenced. ‘Eventually I stopped trying to appease them,’ she writes. ‘If I was going to try and change things in my country, then what men thought of my appearance had to be the least of my worries.’
Alongside examples of the daily challenges faced by Afghan women are insights into the complex political web that continues to ensnare the country. Zarifa traces the origins of the current Islamic extremism in Afghanistan back to the colonial rule in India and the emergence of the Deobandi tradition – a fervent, anti-colonial brand of evangelical Islam. But this is a nuanced account. She gives short shrift to those who call for revolution or invasion from outside the country. Although critical of the Taliban, after decades of perma-war she can understand why many find the relative certainty of the new regime something of a reprieve.
This is a simply written and inspiring work that zips along with the pace of an adventure story. You can only be left in awestruck admiration at everything Zarifa has already achieved in her short life. Despite the current situation, you at least feel some hope that Afghanistan’s trajectory will have been nudged towards a better tomorrow by her unceasing vision for a just and corruption-free homeland.
