The struggle continues

On 11 July, the International Day against Stoning, brave women and men (including a 16 year old who had acid thrown on her face) marched to the Ministry of Women’s Affairs in Kabul to denounce the brutal execution of Najiba, a young woman, by the Taliban four days ago.

See more photos here and be inspired. There are some here too.

By the way, days after the execution that outraged the world, Karzai (with the blessing of coalition forces) has invited the Taliban to disarm and join the political process!

Can there be anything more outrageous?

The struggle continues…

As an aside, some reports on the execution insist that under Sharia, it is impossible to determine whether adultery has taken place because 4 witnesses are needed. They conveniently forget to mention that a confession or pregnancy suffices to prove sex outside of marriage and that is how all victims are sentenced to death. A ‘confession’ always takes place after some form of torture and abuse.

(Link of protest via Mina Ahadi)

Allah ordered the execution

Below is a Reuter’s report of a woman being executed near Kabul, Afghanistan by the Taliban this Sunday. It says she was accused of adultery and that Taliban members were ‘sexually involved’ with her, possibly via rape, and that she was tortured and killed to settle a dispute…

Watching the very disturbing video, I can’t help but think how alone she is in her last moments. She looks behind once and then faces away from the Islamist crowd.

I am taken aback by the fact that she makes no sound and no plea.

Men in the crowd say Allah ordered the execution with smiles on their faces after she is shot countless times in what seems to be an eternity.

At times like this I wonder how the world carries on.

Like W H Auden, I too wish clocks would be stopped and pianos silenced.

And of course so does many a nameless, faceless beloved left behind, maybe her loving parents, children, or the love of her life…

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message [She] Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

[She] was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

(Video Link via Mersedeh Ghaedi)