Tajikistan: Seeking Refuge From a Man's War

Shahri Nabieva, a teacher from Shaartuz in southwestern Tajikistan, had never considered leaving her home. But when the country descended into a brutal civil war in 1991, she had little choice but to flee to neighbouring Afghanistan.

"I knew nothing about what was going on in the country, and the war was simply a shock for me. When my husband disappeared, and my fellow villagers left in a hurry, I also decided to leave, because I was afraid for the safety of my three children."

From then on, life was a continuing struggle. In the rush to leave the village, Nabieva was only able to take her documents, a small amount of food and a change of clothes.

"Only three days after we fled, we ran out of food," Nabieva remembers. "We were saved by a nearby farm, where the men slaughtered the cows and cooked the meat on a fire.

"After a week, we were desperate for just a small piece of bread, and the children were crying and asking for milk. We only got bread when we reached the other side of the border, in an Afghan village."

The civil war began after a clash between the authorities and the newly- formed opposition. The situation was complicated by long-standing hostility between different regions of Tajikistan, and the political struggle quickly turned into a bloody conflict.

In the initial and bloodiest phase of the conflict, episodes of violence, murder and robbery were commonplace. Women, children, and the elderly died alongside their men, and the United Nations estimated that between June and September 1992 alone, around 2,000 people were killed.

Many people fled to escape the violence, and it is estimated that 800,000 people left the country.

Those associated with the losing side, like Nabieva and her family, mostly went to refugee camps in Afghanistan, from where the United Tajik Opposition, led by an Islamic movement, waged a guerrilla on Tajik government forces which only ended with a peace deal reached in 1997.

Flight was not an easy option, and refugees often found themselves in danger. Captain Sergei Ermakov, who served in the border troops at the time, remembers an incident on the shores of the river Pyanj which forms the Tajik-Afghan border.

"Someone spread panic among the refugees, and people started trying to get across without waiting for a boat," Ermakov said.

"They took the wheels off their cars and carts and went into the water using the tyres [for flotation]. But the fast current overturned them and many people, particularly women, weren’t able to hold on to the slippery rubber and drowned in the fast waters. It was a very distressing sight."

Even when refugees had made it across the river, there were further trials. Savrinisso Ismailova, formerly a resident of Tajikistan's Kurgan-Tyube region, fled to Afghanistan with her eight children and her husband's relatives.

She was shocked by what she saw on the other side. "It was as if I was in hell," said Ismailova. "We were in a desert where there wasn’t a scrap of shade, not a drop of water, and it was at least 50 degrees. The Afghans, who were impoverished themselves after years of being constantly at war, could barely help us at all."

Twelve years later, Ismailova still cannot not hold back the tears when she talks about how her family suffered. "We often had to go without food for several days, and there was no water for washing or drinking," she said.

"Two-year-old Nekrus died first, then my six-year-old son Ahmed, and finally I buried my parents-in-law," she says through her tears.

In an attempt to improve their situation, the women at Sakhim, a big refugee camp near the Afghan city of Mazar-i-Sharif, formed a committee and pleaded with the Tajik and Afghan governments for food and medical supplies. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, UNHCR, and the Tajik and Russian authorities provided food, fuel, tents and clothing. But there was still not enough to go round.

Sherali Mustafakulov, a member of the government commission for the return of refugees, visited the camps several times in 1993 and 1994.

"The camps were very dismal," he said. "In summer, the heat was intolerable, and in winter it was terribly cold and wet. The sanitary conditions were terrible, the children's eyes ran with pus and the mothers' faces were black with sorrow.

"Not far from each camp there were enormous cemeteries which filled up by the day. At the Sakhi camp, which housed 43,000 refugees, more than 2,000 people were buried in under six months."

Although the Tajik authorities did offer to help the refugees return, the women were frightened by stories of how people had been brutally murdered by pro-government militias. The refugees had a difficult choice: to die in Afghanistan, or to risk their lives returning to their homeland.

Those who did decide to return were not made welcome. Their abandoned homes had either been destroyed by artillery fire, looted and burned down, or were now occupied by people from the winning side. Returning refugees also faced discrimination from fellow-villagers.

Natasha Kalandarova, from the small village of Kirov in the Kurgan-Tyube region, returned home with her five children to find that a large family had moved into her house. When they refused to move out, Kalandarova and her children had no choice but to live in the cowshed.

By the end of the civil war, around 55,000 women had been widowed and 100,000 children orphaned.

Women who had braved refugee camps and traumatic re-settlement in Tajikistan suddenly had to assume the traditionally male role of breadwinner and provide for their families. This was especially difficult for women from rural areas who had never had paid jobs or their own income.

Many women did not believe they could be self-sufficient, and tried to marry again, to acquire a male breadwinner and protector. Some even consented to polygamous marriages – allowed by Islamic tradition but not recognised by the government – so as to ensure security for themselves and their children.

The widespread sense of post-war hopelessness led many Tajik women to lose interest in life. Ismailova, who saw so many of her family members die, neglected her children's education, and now says she feels indifferent to the fact that they cannot read and write.

However, other women saw the changed situation as an opportunity for new beginnings.

Nabieva, the former teacher, was unable to get her old job back, so she moved to the capital, Dushanbe, and started an non-government organisation called Women of the Village.

"I was able to carry out several projects in the area of female employment,” she told IWPR. “I’m happy I was able to receive new opportunities for self-development."

The war undoubtedly created impetus for women's emancipation in Tajikistan. Those of an enterprising turn of mind and a determination to succeed are now competing with men on the employment market.

In fact, women have become so successful that they are outclassing men. As IWPR reported in May (Taking Control in Tajikistan http://www.iwpr.net/index.pl?archive/wp/wp_001_04_eng.txt), women have begun to exert such a dominating influence in the labour market that men often cannot find jobs and feel increasingly depressed and worthless.

It seems that many of the women who survived the refugee ordeal have also acquired great strength. Malokhat Kadyrova, originally from a village the southern region of Kabodian, lived in a refugee camp near Sherkhan, in Afghanistan’s Kunduz province, for almost a year.

Now she lives in Dushanbe and runs her own business.

"In three years I earned enough money to buy an apartment, and I’m currently expanding my business and want to open a fabric shop," she said.

"I feel more self-sufficient and independent than I used to be. If I had stayed in my remote village, I wouldn't have achieved anything."

Valentina Kasymbekova is an IWPR contributor in Dushanbe.