I am an Afghan mother of three,
One adorable son and two gorgeous daughters.
The youngest son is two,
The oldest is nine.
Hear my story if you dare!

Life has been unfaithful to me.
I was the beauty queen of my village,
Now my husband has run away like a baby.
Not that I am old and rusted,
But it was the life he could not bear.

I curse this rosegar
Where you can’t find a job no matter who you are.
I curse this illiteracy
Where I am treated as nothing but a weak lady.
Give me a chance people, 

I can dig a hole in the mountain.
Give me a chance people,
I can build a house like a man.
Give me a chance people,
I can serve like the man you want.

Don’t look at my curves,
I am not like a fragile flower that will die in the winter.
Don’t look at my beauty,
Like the rainbow which will disappear.
I make the history today!

By selling one child,
To save the other.
What have you done than blame me?
You make an article about me:
“A mother willing to sell her daughter.”

But you never write the reason even once.
Now I challenge you people,
Come and be me – a mother – for once.
Your son is dying of heart disease,
The community rejects helping.

No other option than selling your other child.
Tell me you who write about me
What would you do if you were me?
I bet you would run away from life.
But I am a mother, doing the best I can.

By Farahnaz

Photo by Evgeni Zotov.