Dewa Wardak

Content Warning: Sexual and gender-based violence. Please take care.

Many people see my headscarf and think they know what I am like. Uneducated. Unfree. They do not see Dewa, the psychologist who studied in Afghanistan and completed postgraduate studies in Germany. Who has travelled to India and who has worked. Who is free.  

I am a Pashtun. We are seen as the most conservative ethnic group in Afghanistan Some of my female friends were not allowed to go to school. I was able to study. On the day of my final examination in psychology, I applied for a job at Medica Afghanistan. I was accepted. 

“Look, now the girl even wants to work,” was the reaction of some family members. And for an international organisation! In their eyes this was a sin.

But my father just said: “See whether you like it.” He said the same when only two weeks later I was asked to travel to India to attend further training in trauma. And again when I started to work supporting women in the infamous Pul-e-Charkhi prison in Kabul. 

In my eyes, 90 per cent of them were innocent. Often the action which landed them in prison was one of sheer necessity. I am convinced you and I would have done the same in their situation of need.  

For example, I am still shaken by the judgement against a 23-year-old whose parents had died early and whose brothers had forced her into prostitution. One day they sedated her - their sister - and gave her to other men. When she returned home from being raped and saw her brothers sat at the table, drinking and counting the money they had received for her, she ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and stabbed them. Would you describe this woman as a criminal? 

Together with my female colleagues, I provided psychosocial counselling for that young woman and other inmates. One of their greatest worries was what would happen to them after the prison sentence. Many would be alone without any support because their families had broken off contact with them or because they did not have any family anymore. So we developed offers such as sewing and literacy courses which we implemented together with other organisations. Here the women could learn skills which would enable them to lead a more independent life after jail.  

When the Taliban seized power in Kabul in August 2021, I had to give up this work. I developed symptoms that I had previously only seen in clients, such as depression and despair.

My fingertips hurt like pins and needles, and two fingers became stiff. These pains remained the whole time until I could leave for Germany on October 28, 2021, due to the permanent fear that something would go wrong.  

Nothing seemed certain anymore. Initially I was told I would have to leave the country alone. Then it seemed as if my mother and my two younger siblings would be able to leave with me. And then I was told again this would not be allowed. When it did happen, I was the last to board the plane to Leipzig, waiting to be completely sure that my family really would be allowed to come with me to the safety and freedom of Germany. In fact, even being together at the airport in this moment was only thanks to a lucky coincidence. 

In mid-October we were due to leave for Islamabad with a group of colleagues via the border crossing at Torkham, in order to fly to Germany from there. At the time, my mother and my two siblings both had visas for Pakistan but I had not received one. My brother-in-law also wanted to cross the border so we bought visas for 500 US dollars each. We only had to wait 24 hours for them.

In Torkham, I was the first of our group to go through the passport check. On the Pakistan side, contact people for medica mondiale were waiting. I was already walking towards them when the border agent noticed me and called out: “Just a minute, we still have to check your documents.” I stopped, gave him my passport with the visa in it, but carried on talking to my colleagues. He pressed his stamp down – and I was free. 

On the next day my brother-in-law went to Torkham. But he was stopped at the border: our visas were counterfeit. How lucky I had been that my border agent had been distracted! Even today I get cold shivers down my spine when I think about it. What would have happened if they had noticed the fake visa?   

When my father was about to die in 2018, he said: “Share responsibility for the family with your older brother, do not leave it all to him.” I am so happy I could keep my promise. My older brother still lives in Afghanistan, but everyone else is in a safer place.