Member-only story
Being a girl in Kabul
A short story by: Masuma Balaghat. This short story is part of a collection of short stories written by the female students of a high school in Kabul that Jawad Rafat and I have translated from Persian to English.
The sun has risen from behind the giant mountains. I have to prepare myself for school. I wash my hands and face, look at myself in the mirror and comb my brown hair, which looks golden in the sunlight. I eat breakfast and start going to school and passing through the streets. On the street, I see a few boys; it looks like they are there to harass people. Rolled up their pantyhose and long clothes with open collar buttons, holding the cigarette in their hands and blowing smoke. They say something and laugh and again say something about me. I’m scared of them. Pull my scarf forward and lower my head.
I speed up my steps and rush to pass them by. Their same persistent stares and repetitive eve-teasing follow me. But I dare not say a word or even look at their faces. After, I passed them by, and when I got a little relaxed, I breathed deeply and felt more comfortable. Their stares did not completely abandon me, and three other boys appeared in front of me in the middle of the second street. Again, the same anxiety, concern, and…
