Death over Disgrace

Breathing last

So a few days later when he decided that we would not leave Afghanistan now and work like everyone else to free his country from all the atrocities. I was not really surprised by his decision but what hit me hard was the fact that he would not let me go to my country now, that he wanted for me to stay beside him for a country that was as foreign for me as Europe had been for him, that he would destroy my life so easily for what he wanted.
So what I decided to do next might not come as a surprise, I talked to these men who had poisoned my father with their thoughts, told them that what they were doing was wrong in so many ways but what they did in return was an absolute shock to me they told my father that they were right all along and I should be kept here so, that I might not turn into a more rebellious and outrageous person like the “goras”. Now it was time for me to make a move so I decided that I would run in the middle of the night, away from this place that had held me in shackles since the day I had arrived. But little had I known that I would fall right back into those chains and would be treated worse than animals, caught by one of my cousins I was bought back to my father who in rage and admits all allegations told them to take and kill this daughter of his, who had been a shame all along, and he would not let anyone know that he had a daughter who had nothing to give him but shame. Shocked by what he was saying, I asked him if we would let me talk to him, tell him that I loved him. But in return one of his brothers answered that they would not let him do again what he did years a ago when he decided to leave his country and that a girl who ran from their house was not to be given shelter again.
I was dragged like an animal for sacrifice and was taken to be buried alive, yes the same way people used to do before Islam in the name of their dignity. It was happening again and I was helpless against it. Thrown like a sack of garbage into a hole in the ground, I kept on screaming for help but no one came.
The grains of wet mud thick and heavy above me, left no room to breathe anymore. Laying there counting my last breaths, I began reciting the Shahada “La Ilaha IllalAllah Muhammad Ur Rasool Allah”. My father had killed me, he had chosen my death over his disgrace, and he had chosen my sacrifice for the country he loved. Closing my eyes I took my last breath.

Well, it's the end!!
The purpose to write this book was to highlight the mistake we make when we so easily leave one country and move to another. The culture, the religion and the traditions shape the person our children become. The lives of those who are stuck between two cultures are hardly easy, such decisions are not easy to make and should be made only if the parents have the strength to accept what their children would become.
Moreover the utterly unacceptable trend of honor killing has been "the talk " for a while now and I think taking someones life is not acceptable whatsoever. Allah is the one who gives it and it must be he who decides to take it.
I pray that we do justice to our children and as a society have the strength to stand against what is wrong.
Lots of prayers and duas.
Allah Hafiz!