Memoir & Fiction

Kembara Sepi Seorang Anak Perempuan

Bayangkan seorang anak perempuan sebatang kara hidup menggelandang di jalanan, di tengah-tengah negeri yang tercabik oleh perang saudara tanpa akhir. Ia tidak pernah tahu apakah dapat makan esok hari, apalagi nasib yang akan menimpanya nanti.

Begini ceritanya.

Innocent Deer

In one of the remote forests in Sudan, a group of animals lived in peace.…

Gull-Chaman and Lindy Banks

I developed a passion for writing. I began by painting my own suffering in words. As I continued practicing writing as therapy, I realized it was an effective way to connect with the wider world. I shared my writing on social media. I described the hardships and injustice that we refugees faced due to the barbaric incompetence of those responsible for running the detention system. 

The Fault of New Year

Tomorrow will be a new beginning. A beginning for a revolution, a beginning for new…

War be damned 

With difficulty, I secure the large scarf which covers my head, and in spite of all my efforts, it still doesn’t stand right. I grow restless and careless and continue on with the scarf. The streets of Quetta are narrow and congested, especially at noon when everyone is busy in one way or another.


Yesterday afternoon, I was at an English language center. I was studying in the class when I received a call from my elder brother. My brother was confused, he was in a hurry. He said, “Go to Dasht-e Barchi Complex Hospital, Sabira is in the hospital.”

He Said, Said He

We both return our gaze to the window. Everywhere, a white net has spread across the new snow. It is also cold, and again I feel trembling. I place my head on top of my collected legs so I don’t hear the sound of my teeth grinding. My back becomes heavy. I lift up my head. He has thrown his jacket on me. Instead of saying “so, who are you?,” I acknowledge him. 

House of Baleshi

On the third day, the father of Habibullah, Haji Nazer, grew tired of sitting in front of the door of Karbalaei Reza’s house. He firmly pounded on the door with his fist. The mother of the house opened the entrance to the courtyard. Haji Nazer said “if I don’t take a girl from this house, Habibullah will not allow me to come home.”

Who Ate With My Hand?

One day a woman came in a car. The woman was carrying meat. The car stayed overnight. One of the passengers was present, while the woman was sleeping, opened it, and ate half of the meat.

Period پریود

We lived inside a dead-end alley. It was surrounded by wood-cutting, glass-cutting, and shoemaking workshops. The alley was always ringing with the noise of various tools, from the sound of hammering to make shoe molds to the sound of cutting wood and, occasionally, of breaking glass.

Downtown Burlington Waterfront

I stand beside my bedroom window overlooking the quiet neighborhood. There are no children playing on the street. The neat brick condo houses built in municipal order make the alleys less busier for the drivers and walkers to cross. I stand still, watching as men and women come out of their houses one by one, open their garages and, after a few minutes of warming their vehicles’ engines, drive off to their workplaces.

Journey of Lonely Girl

On a beautiful sunny day, someone came to her and promised her better living conditions. She believed that stranger’s words. That person brought her to a family she thought would have a better state of life, but she immediately found out that they wanted her to be a maid in the house.

A Basket

A man yelled at his companion to carry a basket of veggies while tying his bandana around his head. Two women argued over which mango had a sweeter taste. A child ran to his father happily after finding the lettuce he was looking for. I pass the stores silently, staring at the loud market like a ghost


The red curtain made the room’s shade tangerine, it was burning like an engine. I was laying on the blue sheets of the bed, aware of every inch of the sheet touching my body …

August 15: Day of Dreams’ Death پانزده اوت، روز مرگ رویاها

It was almost ten-thirty when we started the class. I said: “Hello, how are you all?” 

But I did not receive any answer.

I repeated my sentence for the second time.

I waited for a few seconds, but still no one answered.

August 15: Day of Dreams’ Death پانزده اوت، روز مرگ رویاها

Just one day before the fall of Kabul to the hand of Taliban, I was making a big dream come true in Berlin. By being accepted to the College of Fashion, I was manifesting a future full of good things for myself. I was counting the moments for getting the classes started, and I would get to know more people in the field of fashion.

August 15: Day of Dreams’ Death پانزده اوت، روز مرگ رویاها

That night a strange feeling came to me, I was crying all the time like a child who lost her mother. I checked my phone, I saw the news that was announcing that they still did not approach Mazar Sharif and Kabul, so we still can have hope. That day I kept the phone in my hand and never put it anywhere. I was checking the news every second. I was distracted and could not concentrate. I forgot to eat and drink. I forgot everything. I was praying in every way that I could for my country. 

August 15: Day of Dreams’ Death پانزده اوت، روز مرگ رویاها

I, who had never seen the Taliban, was terrified and the first thing I did was to see what I was wearing. My clothes were good because I had an Arabic hijab, but I had black sandals on my feet, which the Taliban had a problem with. A frightened but zealous man dressed in the cream-colored Afghan dress that is common here was standing next to a car and said, “Take the girls and women home first so they can be safe.”

Siya Sar سیا سر

“My first child was a girl! The second was a girl! The third was a girl! You gave me six girls. You are trying to destroy my generation.” Khaled rebuked while examining all angles of the yard to find another reason for continuing the argument. Suddenly he saw Fatima and grabbed her hand with his heavy muscle’s ones while she wanted to stealthily pass the one meter diameter space behind Khaled to enter the kitchen. “I have enough of your type in my house, tiny siya sar! Go to your house, otherwise I would know what to do with you and your Mursal.”

Secrets of Nyala Market

Inside the truck, there was an old woman she wears althawb. The dress of the old woman was blue, a bit torn and dirty. This woman was neither tall nor short. Her body was weak. Maybe she had not eaten for a long time. Her skin was light black. She has big eyes that are not in the right position. Everyone can see the fear in her eyes …

The Red Sky

The sands of the beach are soft and sticky. My brown shoes are trapped there…

Car Journey

Outside the airport, the weather was dark and hot, and everywhere was the smell of…

The Uncalled Guest

The butchers, smoking cigarettes, use the meat as an ashtray. The cats near the butchers…