Women in Afghanistan: Dying for the job

Women in Afghanistan are being murdered simply for going out to work. Those in high-profile jobs are particularly at risk, as the assassination of a high ranking policewoman this week brutally reiterated, writes Emma Cowing

LIKE MANY working mothers, Malalai Kakar followed a routine most mornings. She would get her six children up and dressed, cook them a thin pancake filled with green onions for breakfast, see them off to school or settled into their daily chores, then head to work herself. But on Sunday morning, as Kakar walked out of her front door on her way to the office, she was shot dead. Her son, who had been due to give her a lift, was critically injured. Her murderers were members of the Taleban. Their target was Afghanistan's most senior policewoman.

The death of Commander Kakar, who at 41 was head of Kandahar city's department of crimes against women, has sent shockwaves through the international community. The European Union mission described the attack as "particularly abhorrent" and said she was an "example" to her fellow citizens. Hamid Karzai, the Afghan President, described the killing as "an act of cowardice by enemies of peace, welfare and reconstruction in the country". But to many, not least her family, Commander Kakar's death comes as little surprise.

For months she had been the target of death threats, and there had been several previous attacks on her life. She carried a pistol underneath her burqa, and often wore the traditional form of Islamic dress in an attempt to remain unrecognised when travelling within Kandahar. As the first female graduate of Kandahar Police Academy – no mean feat in a city that was once the headquarters of the Taleban and is still home to many of its sympathisers – she became the first woman investigator in Kandahar Police Department, and at the time of her death headed a team of around ten female police officers who made it their priority to protect women's rights. In Afghanistan, even seven years after the fall of the Taleban regime, such a career does not go unnoticed.

Today, in theory at least, Afghan women can participate in all walks of life. Where once women were confined to the house and – under the Taleban – given no voice, no rights, and certainly no employment, they are now able to play a far more active role in their country's society. Of Afghanistan's 361 MPs, 91 are women. Women are once again working – in schools and hospitals, even in police departments, and taboo issues such as honour killings, abortions, forced marriages and rape are being discussed more openly than ever before. There are human rights organisations fighting for women's rights, and a government that recognises the right for them to be heard.

But for many working women in Afghanistan, particularly those with a public profile, a life of employment is far from safe. Kandahar's own MP, Zurghana Kakar (no relation to Commander Kakar), recently narrowly survived an attempt on her life which killed her husband. One of Commander Kakar's closest friends, Safia Ahmed-jan, the provincial director of the Ministry of Women's Affairs and an outspoken advocate on women's rights described by George W Bush as "a leader who wanted to give young girls an education in Afghanistan", was killed in front of her home in September 2006. In June, a policewoman named Bibi Hoor, was shot and killed in Herat after ignoring warnings that she must give up her job.

Commander Kakar, for one, appeared gloomy about the future. In one interview, she said: "We are trying to apply the law and the constitution is supposed to protect women's rights. But I fear that we are going backwards. More and more obstacles are being put in our path. Instead of becoming more confident, women are becoming more afraid of the threats."

One woman who puts her life on the line every day is Kabul MP Shukria Barakzai, a former journalist who was inspired to join politics when, as a young woman under the Taleban, she was whipped by the religious police for being out on a Kabul street without a male chaperone. As the death threats against her have increased – the most recent saying she would be the target of a suicide bomber, she has been forced to reconsider her political career, during which she has spoken out against the country's warlords and spoken up vociferously for women's rights.

"When I leave home these days on work, I am not quite sure whether I will be back (alive]. Life has become so insecure. I am not planning to leave the country yet, but I do have to think about my kids," she said recently. The government, she adds, does little to help, other than letting her know she is at risk.

"That is all that the government does – send a letter by mail once every month saying my life is under threat. There isn't talk of even providing security. I am going crazy. My friends are telling me to leave the country. My husband is worried. After all, I am also a mother and a wife."

Then there is Afghanistan's own Aung Sang Suu Kyi, Malalai Joya. Dubbed 'the most famous woman in Afghanistan', Joya was an MP until last May when she was thrown out of the parliament for likening her colleagues to farmyard animals. In 2003 she rose to international attention when she spoke out publicly against the domination of warlords in the country during the formation of the country's new government, objecting that war criminals were being given a free pass to influence the new regime. Her words caused outrage among the country's religious elders, and she has survived four assassination attempts since then. Yet she remains uncowed, and continues to campaign both at home and abroad while many – including the American writers Naomi Klein and Noam Chomsky – clamour for her reinstatement.

"Never again will I whisper in the shadows of intimidation," she stated recently. "I am but a symbol of my people's struggle and a servant to their cause. And if I were to be killed for what I believe in, then let my blood be the beacon for emancipation and my words a revolutionary paradigm for generations to come."

And there are other strong women, campaigning for the rights and safety of Afghan women. There is Fatana Gailani, the founder of the Afghanistan Women Council, which she established in Peshawar, Pakistan, in 1978 while in exile from her home country and now runs health clinics and schools, campaigns for women's rights and those of refugees crossing the border into Pakistan.

And there is Soraya Sobhrang, a former gynaecologist who runs the women's rights department of the Afghan Human Rights Commission and campaigns vociferously on the current practice of (all-male) tribal councils deciding the fate of women caught up in legal cases in many rural areas – often ruling against them.

Joya, for one, remains pragmatic about her future, and knows that she may one day be killed. Yet her hope remains that the seeds of change have already been planted, if only because women such as herself, and Commander Kakar, are willing to take such huge personal risks to improve the lives of women across Afghanistan.

"They will kill me but they will not kill my voice, because it will be the voice of all Afghan women," she said recently. "You can cut the flower, but you cannot stop the coming of spring."