Taliban rule

Taliban rule in Afghanistan, beginning with the capture of Kabul in September 1996, imposed a draconian legal and social order that systematically stripped women of their rights, enforced brutal public punishments, and sought to erase all forms of cultural and artistic expression, fundamentally reshaping the lives of the novel's characters.

Arrival and Initial Reception

On the morning of September 27, 1996, Mariam awoke to the sounds of shouting, whistling, firecrackers, and music. Laila, standing at the window with Aziza on her shoulders, turned and smiled, announcing, "The Taliban are here." The family went out that day to greet their new leaders. In every battered neighborhood, people materialized from the rubble and moved into the streets. An old woman wasted handfuls of rice, tossing it at passersby. Men hugged by the remains of gutted buildings. Boys ran down Jadeh Maywand, pounding their fists into the air and dragging rusty cans tied to strings, yelling that Massoud and Rabbani had withdrawn from Kabul. Everywhere, there were shouts of "Allah-u-akbar!" and signs proclaiming "zendabaad taliban!" Rasheed, who had long predicted their arrival, said, "I, for one, will shower them with rose petals." At Pashtunistan Square, a crowd had gathered to see a slender, bearded young man in a black turban speaking through a loudspeaker, holding a rocket launcher. Beside him, two bloodied men hung from ropes tied to traffic-light posts: Najibullah and his brother. Rasheed was smirking.

The Legal Code and Its Enforcement

The following day, Kabul was overrun by red Toyota trucks carrying armed, bearded men in black turbans. From each truck, a loudspeaker blared announcements, first in Farsi, then Pashto. The same message played from loudspeakers atop mosques and on the radio, now known as the Voice of Shari'a. Flyers were tossed into the streets, and Mariam found one in the yard. It declared that the country was now the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan and listed the laws to be enforced. All citizens must pray five times a day; men must grow their beards to at least one clenched fist beneath the chin; all boys must wear turbans. Singing, dancing, playing cards, chess, gambling, and kite flying were forbidden. Writing books, watching films, and painting pictures were forbidden. If a person kept parakeets, they would be beaten and their birds killed. For theft, a hand would be cut off at the wrist; for a second offense, a foot. For women, the laws were even more severe. They were to stay inside their homes at all times, and if they went outside, they had to be accompanied by a mahram, a male relative. If caught alone on the street, they would be beaten and sent home. They were not to show their faces, wear cosmetics or jewelry, or wear charming clothes. They were not to speak unless spoken to, make eye contact with men, or laugh in public. If they painted their nails, they would lose a finger. Girls were forbidden from attending school, and women were forbidden from working. Adultery was punishable by stoning to death. The flyer ended with the command: "Listen. Listen well. Obey. Allah-u-akbar."

Impact on Daily Life and Culture

The Taliban's prohibitions reached into every corner of life. Men wielding pickaxes swarmed the dilapidated Kabul Museum and smashed pre-Islamic statues to rubble. The university was shut down. Paintings were ripped from walls and shredded with blades. Television screens were kicked in. Books, except the Koran, were burned in heaps, and the stores that sold them were closed down. The poems of Khalili, Hafez, Rumi, and many more went up in smoke. Kharabat, Kabul's ancient music ghetto, was silenced; musicians were beaten and imprisoned, their rubabs, tambouras, and harmoniums trampled upon. The Taliban went to the grave of the singer Ahmad Zahir and fired bullets into it. Rasheed, who grew a beard and visited the mosque, was not much bothered by the Taliban. He regarded them with a forgiving, affectionate kind of bemusement. Every Wednesday night, he listened to the Voice of Shari'a when the Taliban announced the names of those scheduled for punishment. On Fridays, he went to Ghazi Stadium, bought a Pepsi, and watched the spectacle of severed hands, lashings, hangings, and beheadings. He described these events to Laila with a queer sort of exhilaration. When Laila called them savages, he replied, "Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. It's in the Koran." He also used the new regime to threaten Laila, saying he could go to the Taliban and express his suspicions about her, and that their word would be believed over hers.

Resistance and Suffering Under the Regime

Life under the Taliban became a daily struggle for survival, especially for women. When Laila went into labor with her second child, the family was turned away from Malalai Hospital because it no longer treated women. They were sent to Rabia Balkhi Hospital, which had no clean water, oxygen, medications, or electricity. The delivery room had eight beds with no curtains, and the doctor had to operate without anesthetic, performing a caesarian section on Laila while a nurse kept watch for Taliban inspectors. The doctor explained that when NGOs offered money, the Taliban turned them away or funneled it to places that catered to men. The drought that began in 1998 worsened the suffering, and by the summer of 2000, hunger became the crux of their existence. Rice was a rare treat, and they skipped meals with alarming regularity. Death from starvation became a distinct possibility. Mariam heard of a neighborhood widow who had ground dried bread, laced it with rat poison, and fed it to all seven of her children, saving the biggest portion for herself. Aziza's ribs began to push through her skin, and her complexion turned the color of weak tea. Laila was forced to send Aziza to an orphanage because they could no longer feed her. The Taliban's prohibition on women working meant Laila could not earn money, and the family was entirely dependent on Rasheed's meager income. The regime also enforced a ban on television, forcing families to bury their sets in the yard to avoid raids. The Taliban's destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in 2001, which they called objects of idolatry and sin, was met with an outcry around the world, but Laila was numb to it, feeling that her own life was crumbling dust.

The End of Taliban Rule

The Taliban's rule began to unravel after the September 11, 2001 attacks. Tariq and Laila, living in Murree, Pakistan, watched the news on BBC as planes crashed into the World Trade Center. Soon, all the TV stations were talking about Afghanistan, the Taliban, and Osama bin Laden. The Taliban announced they would not relinquish bin Laden because he was a mehman, a guest, and it was against the Pashtunwali code of ethics to turn over a guest. Tariq chuckled bitterly, revolted by this distortion of an honorable Pashtun custom. George W. Bush declared war, and American bombs began falling on Afghanistan. The coalition forces drove the Taliban out of every major city, pushing them across the border to Pakistan. An international peacekeeping force, ISAF, was sent to Kabul. The country had an interim president, Hamid Karzai. Laila and Tariq decided to return to Kabul, and Laila felt a part of her wanting to return for Mammy and Babi, for them to see it through her eyes. The drought ended, and the Kabul River began flowing once again. Laila found it strange to be back in a changed city, where people were planting saplings, painting old houses, and carrying bricks for new ones. On windowsills, she spotted flowers potted in the empty shells of old Mujahideen rockets—rocket flowers, Kabulis called them. For the first time in years, she heard music at Kabul's street corners. But it also slayed her that the warlords had been allowed back, that her parents' murderers lived in posh homes and rode in shiny, bulletproof SUVs through neighborhoods they had demolished. She resolved not to be crippled by resentment, moving on for her own sake, for Tariq's, for her children's, and for Mariam.