It’s been a long time since I last saw Shakiba. Time has left traces on her face, which, even here, she still has to hide to protect her life. A burden that can be glimpsed behind her confident and passionate words.
I find her, as always, courageous, tenacious, and fragile. She is part of the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA), founded in 1977 by Meena Keshwar Kamal, who was killed in 1987. The association, always clandestine, fights for women’s rights, social justice, and democracy. It continues, even under the Taliban, to carry out education projects and secret schools for girls, medical assistance, professional training, information campaigns, and food support.
The life of a RAWA activist is a total commitment: continuing her work while protecting herself, her family, her companions, and the women involved in their projects from the fury of the Taliban.
What does it mean now, Shakiba, under the Taliban regime, to be a RAWA activist?
Shakiba: It’s already very difficult to be a woman. Every day there are new bans, new rules to prevent us from living. It’s very hard, especially for girls who have lost their future and the chance to learn. Women are imprisoned in their homes and minds; they can’t even go to a park to breathe some air. But for us RAWA activists, life is even more complicated. We can’t stay confined within the walls of our homes, focused only on surviving in emptiness; we must keep advancing our projects. We’ve returned to the Stone Age and must start from scratch. But we are always at risk.
How do you protect yourselves?
Shakiba: When we leave the house, we wear a hijab with a mask and dark glasses so as not to be recognized. We don’t talk to anyone outside, not even in the car. We often change houses. In the city, we move alone, but if we have to go out of town, we need a mahram (a male chaperone), sometimes more than one. It would be impossible without them. We never take the same route or leave at the same time. We constantly check to ensure no one is following us—you always have to think about what might happen.
It sounds like a psychologically exhausting condition.
Shakiba: Yes, it’s true. Fear is always with us, and it must be that way. You have to stay alert—for yourself, your companions, and your family.
How do you travel when going out of town?
Shakiba: We rent a car. We can’t use our own; they could follow us back home. In the early days, there were many checkpoints; they checked everything—phones, cars. They even entered houses, mainly looking for weapons. Now less so, but when we leave, we never carry our phones or documents.
This isn’t new for RAWA.
Shakiba: Exaclty. We continue to find ways to work secretly and avoid being recognized. These are the methods RAWA has used since its inception. We never show ourselves; no one knows who is part of RAWA. We use false names so we can never be identified. Our faces must never be recorded on cameras.
Where are these cameras?
Shakiba: Everywhere. In all the streets and homes. It was ordered as soon as the Taliban arrived. Every building must have one, at the tenants’ expense. The guard, a kind of caretaker, is responsible for keeping them on at all times. If the Taliban want information, he is obliged to show them the footage. They also install cameras in the streets. For this reason, we must be absolutely unrecognizable. The good news is that there are frequent power outages.
When you go to the provinces to follow your projects, how are you received?
Shakiba: In villages, the Taliban are less oppressive than in cities. People welcome us with open arms because we bring projects for education, health, and food support. We know them, and they know us. The villagers have kind hearts.
Do the Taliban have support in the provinces?
Shakiba: Not everyone feels the same way. The Taliban also have their followers there. But in the past three years, hatred toward them has spread significantly among the population. People have suffered greatly, even men. Military personnel from the army were dismissed and persecuted; public offices were staffed with Taliban loyalists, leaving many without work.
Could this hatred toward the Taliban one day lead to an organized resistance to fight them?
Shakiba: Right now, poverty is immense. People can’t even think about the future; their only concern is feeding their children today. But maybe, when they truly can’t bear this life of hardship anymore, they will act.
So resistance is possible in the future?
Shakiba: Perhaps, but it will take a very long time. For now, coming out in the open is extremely dangerous. The Taliban shoot at demonstrators. If they are women, they shoot in the air to scare them; if they are men, they shoot them down like animals. When you face them with their rifles pointed at you, and you have nothing in your hands, it’s truly hard to resist. Rifles hold power in my country.
Do you see other obstacles preventing the formation of an opposition to the Taliban?
Shakiba: We need education and political awareness, to understand what is happening and to ask questions. Today, this is not the case. And it’s getting worse. There is no leadership, no strong party with a powerful project to serve as a point of reference. Educated people, engaged intellectuals, professors, competent politicians—they’ve all left Afghanistan. There is no education left to train future leaders.
Education is indeed a key aspect of your work.
Shakiba: Yes, for us, education and political awareness are fundamental. We must give people the tools to understand. Give every woman, even if she is illiterate, the chance to understand what is happening to her. This applies to men as well. We must save young people from the fundamentalist education of the madrassas (Islamic schools). They are brainwashing them. We can’t end up with a country full of only Taliban tomorrow. It would be a catastrophe.
What impact has your work had over the years?
Shakiba: Deep impacts. Over the years, from Pakistan to Afghanistan, we have educated and helped hundreds and hundreds of people. These are individuals who, even if they are not politically active and have chosen different lives, are good, reliable people. We know they want to do something for their country, they have good minds and good intentions. This will help them survive during these savage times.
Why are the Taliban so obsessed with controlling women?
Shakiba: If you take any action against women, who are the roots of all society, you affect the entire family. Women pass on what they know. If you educate a woman, you educate the whole family; if you keep her in ignorance, the entire family remains ignorant. An ignorant, fearful population with no means of understanding is easier to control. Women must be kept out of society so the entire future society will be subjugated.
Are they afraid of women?
Shakiba: Yes, absolutely. They fear their resistance because they know they can’t fully control them. They believe that if women were educated, they would take away their power or a part of it. They know that if women decide to do something, they won’t stop at anything. And they can change everything. The Taliban feel threatened and suppress them.
Crimes committed by the Taliban are difficult to uncover.
Shakiba: There is severe press repression and control over social media. That’s why one of our activities is to collect testimonies about their crimes and the depression and suffering of women. We receive reports from every Afghan province, sent to us by our colleagues. If one day we manage to bring the Taliban before a court, we must have all the documented evidence.
What crimes are we talking about?
Shakiba: Murders of women, civilians, military personnel, and Hazara individuals; sexual violence in prisons; public stonings and floggings. Or acts like cutting off hands, hanging people in the streets—just like during their first regime. At that time, RAWA activists would go to stadiums where women were punished, hiding small cameras in their clothes to film what happened. Those videos reached the entire world. Now, with mobile phones and the ability to take photos, it’s easier to uncover such acts. Especially in the provinces, people are willing to talk. But of course, such images are dangerous traces and must remain secret.
Is it also a technological war against the Taliban?
Shakiba: Yes, exactly. They’ve become skilled; they have Pakistani instructors. But we are more skilled than they are, and we use strong systems that help us resist.
Do you still organize demonstrations?
Shakiba: At the moment, we’ve decided not to. It’s too dangerous. Many women have been arrested, tortured, and some have disappeared. We are prepared for the worst, but we have a responsibility toward others, toward our association.
The Afghan hell is visible to everyone, yet no nation goes beyond mere words of disapproval. Why are they being allowed to act as they do?
Shakiba: For a long time, the Americans negotiated behind the scenes and ultimately handed the country over to the most barbaric of fundamentalists. The Taliban’s seizure of Kabul was a farce; soldiers were ordered to let them pass, and planes for government members were already prepared. The United States has always supported fundamentalist groups, and no one challenges their agenda. Everyone benefits from it. If we had a stable, secular, and progressive democracy, as we dream of, it would not allow foreign states to interfere in the country’s internal affairs. With fundamentalists, however, for money and weapons, they would sell even their own mother. It’s an easy deal. They will do anything for you—for your money. They will sell you the mines, produce opium for you, and give you freedom of movement on their roads, enabling you to control other countries like Iran, Pakistan, and Russia. And with ongoing wars and the precariousness of people, weapons will always be sold, and gigantic profits made. Therefore, no one has an interest in removing them after having installed them there.
What should Western civil society do?
Shakiba: You must act against the policies of your governments; it is the only way to change something in Afghanistan. Pressure your leaders to not follow the wrong policies of the United States, which you’ve supported for so many years. The West must stop supporting fundamentalist groups; it must stop this game that is destroying the very roots of my country. Without support, the Taliban would no longer be able to manage the country and would collapse. There can be no victory as long as these people are supported and funded.
How much financial support do the Taliban receive?
Shakiba: The Taliban openly state that they receive $40 million every week from the Americans to maintain the state apparatus. If there’s one thing they don’t lack, it’s money. If an NGO wants to start a project, it must register and pay substantial taxes to the government. The Taliban have their own NGOs financed by the UN. They also earn revenue from taxes, mining concessions, and other exploitation of our territory. Many nations have made agreements with them: especially China, but also Kazakhstan, Iran, and Pakistan, which takes our coal. Agreements for promising business ventures lead to a dangerous normalization, now underway, which lays the groundwork for future recognition of the Taliban government. The enslavement of women is merely a collateral effect, one deemed negligible.
Do the Taliban have rivals on the ground?
Shakiba: There are various terrorist groups, but they don’t pose a threat to the Taliban. They have control everywhere now. Afghanistan is becoming a “center for terrorist services,” fueled by the West. Militias are trained, gathered, and armed. The idea is this: you nurture various puppets, so you can later use them against your rivals. ISIS-K, for example, is used as a threat against Russia. The Americans also keep ties with the warlords of the previous government. When they saw the warlords were no longer reliable and turned to other states—Russians, Pakistanis, Chinese—they turned to the Taliban, who are more stable. But the warlords are waiting. You never know.
What is the strongest message for your people?
Shakiba: We are here, we are behind you, and you must not lose hope. You are not alone, and we don’t want to leave.
At these words, Shakiba is moved, and so are we.
