By Frud Bezhan

  Melbourne -  Nazifa Nader endured more than her fair share of  the upheavals in Afghanistan for two decades before coming to Australia.

After the death of her husband, father, brothers and uncles during the war between the Soviet Union and the Mujahidin in the 1980s Nazifa, then a 26-year-old widow, was left alone to fend for her six-month old daughter, two sons aged three and five and an elderly mother.

In April 1992 Nazifa fled Afghanistan and escaped to a refugee camp in Peshawar, Pakistan, teeming with widows, children and elderly men and women.

Unlike the thousands of Afghan widows who remarried, mostly by force, Nazifa defied the cultural myth in patriarchal societies like Afghanistan that claim women cannot survive without a husband by their side.

Sacrificing her personal needs and desires as a woman for the sake of her struggling Afghan sisters and the welfare and future of her children, Nazifa overcame acute poverty, abuse and social isolation to bring her family to Australia. 

 

From left to right: Nazifa Nader, Bibi Nader, and Mana Nader. Photo: Frud Bezhan

Since her arrival in December 2001 with little more than a plastic bag containing her passport and immigration papers Nazifa, now 53, has worked tirelessly as a volunteer community worker to advance the cause of local Afghan women.

As a young Pashtun girl growing up in Kandahar (the birthplace of the Taliban) in the tribal south of Afghanistan, Nazifa was witness to women’s secondary status, powerlessness and their lack of identity in society.

“Women were nothing. They were sold and handled like animals. My best friend, Suraya, was just 12 when she was married off to a 60-year-old man who gave her father some land and a few sheep. Of course, she had no say. Suraya did not even know about her marriage until the day of her wedding,” explains Nazifa.

“Her husband Rashid already had four other wives living in his house. Nine of his 17 children were older than Suraya. I saw her in the bazaar six months after her marriage, covered in a black burqa from head to toe…the next year when my parents and I moved to Kabul, we heard that Suraya was pregnant.”

After completing Year 12 at Kabul’s Malalai High School, named after the legendary female leader of the Afghan resistance against British occupation in the late 19th century, Nazifa became an active member of the Women’s Democratic Organisation of Afghanistan. 

Founded in 1967, WDOA was the first political organisation established by women in Afghanistan. Between 1964 and 1973, the organisation actively campaigned for the social and political reforms that led to political participation, economic opportunity and social freedom for women in Afghanistan.

During this period, girls flocked in their thousands to schools and universities all over the country, and some even went overseas for further education. Women began to actively participate in politics.  “Women even started singing, playing music and acting,” remembers Nazifa.

In the 1980s, further attempts by the government to radically extend women’s rights provoked rebellion from the Mujahidin, the western-backed Islamist traditionalists who fought against the Soviet Union and the reformist Afghan government.

“Despite what the West thought then, women were doing very well in Afghanistan. They were involved in the political process;  they were employed in all fields of work ranging from labouring, teaching, to medicine and even the military. Women made up the majority of the students and teachers at schools and universities across the country,” says Nazifa.  “We fought the Mujahidin because they did not believe in women’s rights. We knew their intentions, policies and attitudes towards women.” 

Women like Nazifa were part of Neighbourhood Self Defence groups stationed in communities all over the major cities of Afghanistan. 

“The Afghan army gave us Kalashnikov rifles and provided us with training. All the men were fighting in the frontline so it was up to us, the women of the neighbourhoods, to protect ourselves, our children, our neighbours and our dignity,” Nazifa explains.

“We fought those who, in the name of Islam, kidnapped, raped and murdered young women and boys…who set fire to schools… who undid the gains women had made in Afghanistan and instigated a culture and ideology that imprisoned women in their homes, denied them education , work and  and their humanity, Says Nazifa.

“Their extreme ideology was taken up by their offspring and successors - the Taliban - under whose savage laws and philosophy women earned the label: “the ghosts of Afghanistan.”
 
Nazifa’s memories of her last night in Afghanistan still make her scream, kick and pant in her sleep, more than 16 years after she first entered a shop in Kabul while seeking shelter from the spraying bullets and chaos in the streets.

The battered sign read ‘Qasabee’ (Butcher Shop) and inside, the shop reeked of rotten flesh. Next to a bloodied table-board chipped with deep dents, lay a mountain of clothes on the linoleum floor. Seven feet away, in a dark green bucket overflowing with blood floated 34 round pieces of flesh. 

Inside a concealed room in the basement, 12 cm hooks speared through the throats of the 17 women hanging from the bloodied walls.

“The things that were done to women that I was an eye-witness to, and the stories I heard from others broke me but also made me stronger…it was on that day that I decided to devote my life toward elevating the status, role and voice of Afghan women,” says Nazifa.

Sixteen years after fleeing Afghanistan, Nazifa is still fighting for the welfare, interest and security of Afghan women. 

In June this year, Nazifa established the Afghan-Australian Women Association, a group that provides Afghan women with advice on personal and domestic affairs and information on how they can benefit from Australian institutions and law.

“But most importantly,” adds Nazifa, “it is a place where Afghan women can escape from the pressures of the home, family and culture to sit down, have a meal and talk.” 

Nazifa has been the head of women’s affairs in the Afghan-Australian Philanthropic Association, co-ordinating a women’s sewing group and leading a project on healthy eating and nutrition for Afghan women.  Last year she held a Mother’s Day celebration not only to mark the tireless daily efforts and pains of Afghan mothers but also to commemorate the contributions and achievements of women in the community.  

Nazifa’s life and her endeavours for the betterment of Afghan women in Victoria have received much admiration and appreciation by members of the Afghan and the wider Australian community.

Gulghotai Wahidi, a social worker for the Migrant’s Resource Centre, believes Nazifa’s story embodies both the suffering and pain of Afghan women but also their immovable sense of hope and dignity in the face of adversity.

“In that worn-out face of hers, I see the scarred but defiant face of Afghanistan herself. I see the troubles, the pain, and the unyielding spirit of a nation in her,” says Gulghotai.

Wahida Abaasi, a member of the Afghan-Australian Philanthropic Association, says by overcoming her terrible loss and suffering, Nazifa has strengthened her will to live and find happiness in Australia.  

“War has stolen a lot of things from Nazifa, things most women around the world can’t imagine… it has eaten away whole chunks of her… but it still hasn’t robbed her of her humanity, sympathy and her desire to live and hope,” states Wahida. 

In the living room of Nazifa’s Narre Warren home, an old black and white family portrait hangs alongside her 2007 Excellence in Multicultural Affairs medal and her 2008 Casey Citizen of the Year certificate. In the middle of the portrait, a seven-year-old girl in a white dress clings to her mother’s hand- they are the only two survivors from the 35 family members pictured. 

As Nazifa walks across the living room, she catches a glimpse of a recent photo only taken a few days ago. As Nazifa slowly moves towards the photo, tears begin to trickle from her dark weary eyes. In the photo are her sons now aged 20 and 22 and her 17-year-old daughter. As the corners of her mouth curve slightly upward, Mana Nader, Nazifa’s daughter, sees an expression come over her mother’s face, which she has rarely seen before: a smile.