By Aqila Asad
I am a Pashtun woman
My birth was not a happy occasion
No cheers, no celebration
That a son would warrant
No one brought sweets to the family
No one ran along the alleys, singing
No one did the call for prayer in my ear
To Baptize me a Muslim
No one sent congratulations
No one held me close
No one looked at me
They just called me Pashtana,
A female Pashtun
It’s fine for me to glean in the wheat fields
To go to strangers’ houses for quilting
To pick cotton
To shuck corn
To wander in bazars, scavenge, beg
To clean the shoes
Taken off outside the mosque
All this is not forbidden
But school
And read and write?
I am not allowed to do that.
If she cries, it must be acting
If she laughs, it is immodest
If she’ falls silent, they say
Oh! She’s being a coquette
If she says something,
They say,
Did you hear that?
She’s grown now, she’s looking for a lover
This is the Pashtun woman that I am
I am not supposed to have wishes
If I keep secret desires,
Blasphemy.
If I hold somebody’s memories
In my heart
Blasphemy.
If I tend donkeys and goats
That’s fine
But to think of a beloved?
Blasphemy.
Give me away in marriage
As a prize
Or just as retribution,
It’s fine.
Sell me to a decadent suitor,
It’s fine.
If I burn in flames, it’s fine
If I’m killed or die neglected,
It’s fine
But to say a word
Well, that does not become
A Pashtun woman
It’s late afternoon now
I am going to the stream
Or the riverbank
With agemates
Making the ritual round trip
Jugs on our shoulders
Hoping we may catch a glimpse
Of young men who admire us
Young men who risk their lives
Just to see us smile
This is our sacred walk
Around the House of God
Our Safa and Marwa
The spring upon the cliff
Is our Zamzam.
The Satan we throw stones at
Is our silverberry tree
Heavy with fruit
This is my place of worship,
This is my daily pilgrimage
Will I be the Malala of the battleground?
–Give water to the wounded?
Will I be the Zarghuna of the Empire?
–Rebuke the Emperor?
I will just be the Aqila* I am
The girl of the gudars**
A fresh bouquet of flowers
A lamp in the dark
A messenger of wisdom
And love
Translated by Jonaid Sharif
—
*Aqila, the first name of the poet, is an Arabic word meaning wise, rational. It is customary for some poets to end their poem with their name.
**Gudar (pass point) is literally a point in a river or a stream where it is simple enough to fetch water from. But culturally, it is a place of rendezvous, an area where girls have a semblance of freedom to chat, vent, recite poetry, and occasionally exchange messages with suitors.
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