In Memoriam: Nadia Anjuman
On November 4, 2005, a twenty-five year old woman in Afghanistan, Nadia Anjuman, whose first book, Gule Dudi (Dark Flower) had just been published, was killed. A few days later, her husband was arrested for her murder. You can read the in-depth story from the Times in the UK here.
A new report from the Institute for War and Peace Reporting was released today about the murder of Nadia Anjuman. You can read it here. Nadia's story has haunted me for the past month. I read about her, and I confess, I turn away. It is painful to think about one of the outcomes of patriarchy, sexism, and male supremacy: death. While I know this and to some degree live everyday with this fear, as a Western woman with race and class privilege, I can look away from it if I choose. I don't have to feel it every day. I am thankful for that. Still, I must force myself to look. I must witness how women live in the world.
I wanted to write this entry in memory of Nadia and for solidarity with all women struggling to end male hegemony. Memory and struggle are essential for our liberation.
I have been searching the web for a translation of Nadia Anjuman's work but have found nothing. If anyone has links to translations of her work, please post them.
Remember Nadia Anjuman. Her final words have been written. We must make space to read them and remember them. We must listen for the voices of other women in Afghanistan and the Middle East as they emerge. I think that must be part of the work of Woman-Stirred.
A new report from the Institute for War and Peace Reporting was released today about the murder of Nadia Anjuman. You can read it here. Nadia's story has haunted me for the past month. I read about her, and I confess, I turn away. It is painful to think about one of the outcomes of patriarchy, sexism, and male supremacy: death. While I know this and to some degree live everyday with this fear, as a Western woman with race and class privilege, I can look away from it if I choose. I don't have to feel it every day. I am thankful for that. Still, I must force myself to look. I must witness how women live in the world.
I wanted to write this entry in memory of Nadia and for solidarity with all women struggling to end male hegemony. Memory and struggle are essential for our liberation.
I have been searching the web for a translation of Nadia Anjuman's work but have found nothing. If anyone has links to translations of her work, please post them.
Remember Nadia Anjuman. Her final words have been written. We must make space to read them and remember them. We must listen for the voices of other women in Afghanistan and the Middle East as they emerge. I think that must be part of the work of Woman-Stirred.
posted by Julie R. Enszer | 3:14 AM
3 Comments:
heartbreaking!
Julie, I have good news. I have put together a page with Nadia Anjuman's story and a number of her translated poems. Please tell other poets, friends, bloggers, to spread the news, and perhaps the world will come together to stop such evil from happening on a daily basis. Here's the page:
http://www.thehypertexts.com/Nadia_Anjuman_Poet_Poetry_Picture_Bio.htm
You can reach me at mburch@aocg.com
Thanks,
Mike Burch
Editor, The HyperTexts
www.thehypertexts.com
DARK FLOWERS
(For Nadia Anjuman Herawi 1980 - 2005)
Dark flowers come blazing from the night skies
Sulphurous blooms burn, mutilate; blow bodies apart.
Tell me who are the war mongers, terror stokers – why, do innocents die?
The planet pirouettes on its bloodied axis
Missiles fly dragonflies of fire carted by hands hollow of heart
Dark flowers come blazing from the night skies
Bombs that can blast away towers and trees up high
Emit rays that scrape skin from scorched faces that smart
Tell me who are the war mongers, terror stokers - why do innocents die?
In times of jittery Peace we’re living with war, Why, I ask, why?
Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib, live walls and camps, state-of-the-art
Dark flowers come blazing from the night skies
On continents and seas of plenty, people war, starve and die
Who attached price-tags to land, diamonds, coal, oil, water and art?
Tell me who are the war mongers, terror stokers - why do innocents die?
And you, my Dylan, scintillating star in the nightsky
I thank, praise you now for villanelles that sting and dart
Dark flowers come blazing from the night skies
Tell me who are the war mongers, terror stokers – why do innocents die?
Deela Khan
7 September 2006
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