Seated by the blazing furnace, from which flames leap forth, she tends to the fire. After it gets calmed, she reaches for a handful of firewood and tosses them one by one into the furnace, urging its flames to rise higher than her bowed stature. As the fire devours the firewood, heating the furnace, she draws a deep breath amidst the thick smoke, seizing the opportunity to release the untold burdens smoldering in her chest, akin to flames upon her heart: “Once, I feared the flames, fleeing a hundred kilometers away. Now, I burn amidst them, paying the price for my uncommitted sins.” The beginning of her unspoken words is soul-wrenching, as much as it has transformed the joyful young girl of yesterday into a sorrowful, burdened wife today. With dark eyes, she gazes deeply at the firewood consumed by the wrathful, merciless fire, as if finding her sorrowful existence mirrored in the charred pieces that burn silently, devoid of voice. Tears stream down her cheeks like a flood from her eyes, cursing the smoke that forces water to overflow her cheeks, yet it’s not just the smoke rising from the firewood that makes her eyes weep; it’s the harshness of life that has engulfed her for more than three years. Her heart yearns to express all the hardships endured during this time, to relieve her burdened chest, but the cries of her 12-month-old baby, struggling to breathe in the corner of the kitchen choked by smoke, create a pause in her unspoken words.
Zareen, a 24-year-old woman, has been worn down by the harshness of life more than her years would suggest. Her tall stature stoops and her face is darkened by the intensity of the scorching heat. Her once long, black eyebrows and eyelashes are now singed. Deep lines reveal themselves around her eyes, and her hands lack their usual gracefulness. The injustices of life have aged her prematurely. While softly singing a lullaby for her child, she casts a worried glance at her unfinished work, troubled by the prospect of the furnace cooling down again, knowing she must bake bread for her own family and a few others until her husband returns, and then, she must follow the endless commands of him. With her child getting calmed, she hurriedly throws more firewood into the fire, heating the furnace even more, then proceeds to shove the dough into the oven one after another, baking bread. As she takes out the baked loaves from the oven, she says, “I thought I would be the happiest woman in the world with a man whom I loved more than anyone and who seemed almost angelic before marriage. Little did I know, that behind his innocent face and good behavior, was a cruel person hiding behind a mask of innocence. It was because of him that I abandoned my dreams. I was in the twelfth grade and was supposed to take the university entrance exam, but he didn’t allow it. He said we should get married first, and then he would help me continue my studies and fulfill my dreams. I was naive and agreed with everything he said. When we got married and I came to his house, after a few months, I got to know him. He wasn’t a good and loyal man anymore, nor did he act on the promises he made to me. From that time until now, I work for him like a servant, and besides sometimes unfairly scolding me, I earn money for him.”
After marriage, Zareen becomes a full-time laborer, working from morning till night to cover her household expenses. Before the Taliban’s rule, she used to work as a cleaner in government offices and private universities, but with the worsening economic situation, she lost her last source of income from people’s homes. After some time, she is forced to work to support her newborn child and pay for his expenses: “When my child was three months old, I had to work in a sewing factory for a while, but the owner didn’t let me work there after a while, because I had to take my daughter with me, and I couldn’t do the work properly. When I was fired, I had no choice but to become a baker. I knew nothing about baking bread, I was even afraid of the oven fire, but the hardships of life overcome fears and push you to do things you never thought you could. Now one of my hands is in the oven, and the other is taking care of my daughter. Sometimes I’m afraid that the smoke that has weakened me will make my daughter sick, but I have no choice because I don’t have anyone else to take care of her when I’m not around. My husband not only doesn’t work but disappears from morning till night, only coming back at night to eat bread and sleep.”
She has tried many times to separate from her husband and complain about his torture and indifference towards their child, but after the Taliban’s rule, there is no institution to help her, and no court to seek justice from; because the Taliban have closed all institutions that support women. She is forced to bear the burden of life alone: “My hands are tied for now, no one hears my voice. I want to divorce my husband, but there’s no way I can do it. I can’t even ask for help from my family; because this marriage was my own choice, and no one was happy about my marriage to this man, neither my parents nor my brothers. My father tried to stop me many times, but I thought no one could be better than this man. Little did I know I was making a mistake. For now, I have no one and nowhere in Afghanistan. After the Taliban came, everyone left, even my family. If they were here and saw me in this situation, they would surely save me. I also don’t dare to tell them about my bad situation. After my brothers left Afghanistan, my husband’s temper worsened, and there was no one to stop him from abusing me. Now I work for him and suffer abuse. As the saying goes, ‘The one who committed the act suffers neither rain nor cure.'”
As she speaks intermittently through her pain and hides her tears with the blazing furnace, she bakes the remaining loaves of bread from her day’s work with the last pieces of firewood. Although she wishes to open up more about her pain, something resembling fear stops her, and she concludes her words.
