English Paper 2 Quotes
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ATSS Women and Femininty
Learn this now and learn this well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman. (1.1.26) These words become a refrain for Mariam as she gets older. It's hard to argue with the logic, at least given Mariam's particular situation. Jalil shifts the burden of Mariam onto Nana, and Rasheed blames Mariam for everything that goes wrong in his life. A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing, Mariam. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed, it won't stretch to make room for you. (1.5.25) This passage shows the difference between men and women in A Thousand Splendid Suns. Most of the men in the book are rigid and uncompromising, especially where women are concerned. On the other hand, the females of the novel—Mariam, Laila, and Aziza—embody the ability of women to change and adapt. The women in this part of Kabul were a different breed from the women in the poorer neighborhoods—like the one where she and Rasheed lived, where so many of the women covered fully. (1.11.19) These women are the hipsters of Kabul. Mariam has had traditional gender roles ingrained in her for her entire life, and that's to say nothing of the social stigma she feels as a harami. For a country girl like Mariam, these modern women represent freedom. She remembered Nana saying once that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world [...] As a reminder of how women like us suffer, she'd said. How quietly we endure all that falls upon us. (1.13.37) Mariam encounters an insane amount of hardship during her life, but she never becomes jaded, mean, or cruel—or, at least, not for very long. In fact, Mariam doesn't even lash out against Rasheed until he almost kills Laila. Talk about making up for lost time: that snowflake turned into an avalanche. Marriage can wait, education cannot. You can be anything you want, Laila. I also know that when this war is over, Afghanistan is going to need you as much as its men, maybe even more. (2.16.56) This advice from Laila's father shows his modern views on women's rights. And you know what? He's right. As we see at the end of the novel, women like Laila are the ones who lead the charge to rebuild Afghanistan. Mariam heard the answer in his laugh: that in the eyes of the Taliban, being a communist and the leader of the dreaded KHAD made Najibullah only slightly more contemptible than a woman. (3.37.58) Things change big time when the Taliban takes power. It might make sense that the members of the new government goes after the leaders that preceded them, but the Taliban's immediate assault on women's rights reveals something far more troubling. Mariam saw now the sacrifices a mother made. Decency was but one. (3.39.25) Again, we see that the women of the novel are rarely recognized for their sacrifices. Mariam realizes this, and the insight helps her make peace with her own mother. More interestingly, it highlights how Mariam and Laila become like mother and daughter themselves. In Laila's dream, she and Mariam are out behind the toolshed digging again. But, this time, it's Aziza they're lowering into the ground. (3.40.63) This dream comes soon after the Taliban begins raiding homes for illegal media. Mariam and Laila had recently buried their TV in the backyard, and Laila's dream of burying Aziza comes soon after. It reveals Laila's unease at being party to the Taliban's blatant oppression of women. Had she ever been a deceitful wife? she asked herself. A complacent wife? A dishonorable woman? Discreditable? Vulgar? What harmful thing had she willfully done to this man to warrant his malice, his continual assaults, the relish with which he tormented her? (3.45.22) As is often the case with victims of domestic violence, Mariam believes that she is somehow to blame for the abuse. It takes a long time—and an attempted murder—for Mariam to realize that it's not her fault. It's a powerful moment. Already Laila sees something behind this young girl's eyes, something deep in her core, that neither Rasheed nor the Taliban will be able to break. Something as hard and unyielding as a block of limestone. (4.50.112) This image is a great example of the novel's view of women. In the novel, women aren't weak or needy. On the contrary, the women are shown as the strongest individuals in the novel, capable of enduring far more than the male characters.
Enamata
Lines that communicate emotion (tears etc.)
ATSS Love
Mammy didn't understand. She didn't understand that if she looked into a mirror, she would find the one unfailing conviction of [Babi's] life looking right back at her. (2.21.59) Mammy and Babi have a difficult relationship, and Mammy blames him for the death of Ahmad and Noor. But it's Babi's unflinching devotion to Mammy that ultimately shines through. There's no doubt that this love makes an impact on Laila and how she views family. "Do you have it in you?" Laila said. "To what?" "To use this thing. To kill with it." [...] "For you," he said. "I'd kill with it for you, Laila." (2.25.19-22) While it may make you feel icky to think about it, this is a pretty powerful thing to say to someone else, and, in a way, a pure expression of what it can mean to love. Laila agrees—this statement sparks the first kiss between Laila and Tariq. She would not miss him as she did now, when the ache of his absence was her unremitting companion—like the phantom pain of an amputee. (2.26.11) The image of "the phantom pain of an amputee" is an obvious play on Tariq's lost leg, but it also provides a great metaphor for being away from someone you love. Laila and Tariq are so bonded that Laila sees them, to some extent, as the same person. As soon as she was in Mariam's arms, Aziza's thumb shot into her mouth and she buried her face in Mariam's neck. [...] Mariam had never before been wanted like this. Love had never been declared to her so guilelessly, so unreserved. (3.35.5-6) Hold on—keep reading just a little bit longer before you start looking up cute baby videos on YouTube. Before this moment, Mariam had never experienced unconditional love from someone else. But Aziza is innocent and pure—and she doesn't care that Mariam is a harami. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them. (3.35.26) Now we see why Mariam is so unhappy. She has loved plenty of people during her life: Jalil, Mullah Faizullah, even Nana. But she always ends up disappointed. Like Pavlov's dog, Mariam has been conditioned to expect rejection whenever she experiences love. Somehow, over these last months, Laila and Aziza—a harami [illegitimate child] like herself, as it turned out—had become extensions of her and now, without them, the life Mariam had tolerated for so long suddenly seemed intolerable. (3.35.27) Here, we see the transformative power of love. Laila has just told Mariam that she wants Mariam to escape with her, and Mariam is mulling over her decision. Mariam has been with Rasheed for so long, but Laila and Aziza have opened her up to a whole new way to experience life. Laila crawled to her and again put her head on Mariam's lap. She remembered all the afternoons they'd spent together, braiding each other's hair, Mariam listening patiently to her random thought and ordinary stories with an air of gratitude, with the expression of a person to whom a unique and coveted privilege had been extended. (3.46.71) This heartbreaking moment underscores the maternal relationship between Mariam and Laila. The love between the two women flourishes once they develop a deep, mother-daughter relationship with each other. [Mariam] thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager [...] A weed. And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. (3.47.62) Mariam has had a tough life. She's been beaten, abused, mistreated, and taken advantage of. Yet she isn't filled with rage at the end. Instead, she feels joy simply for having the opportunity to connect with other people. Most times, Laila and Tariq make love in silence, with controlled muted passion [...] But for Laila, being with Tariq is worth weathering these apprehensions. When they make love, Laila feels anchored, she feels sheltered. (4.49.26) Here's a game: go back and compare this scene to Laila's wedding night with Rasheed. Both scenes reveal a lot about the men in question and the way they express love. Here, we see that Tariq actually makes Laila feel happy. Fancy that. Mariam is never very far [...] mostly, Mariam is in Laila's own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns. (4.51.37) This right here—cue killer guitar riff—is the power of love. While the love between Mariam and Laila is small in scale, it ends up having an effect on a great number of people. Mariam's love inspires Laila to do great things and to pay that love forward to those in need.
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ATSS Education
She pictured herself in a classroom with other girls her age. Mariam longed to place a ruler on a page and draw important-looking lines. (1.3.26) Education is not valued in Mariam's childhood home. As a result, she romanticizes the idea of learning. In truth, her lack of education is directly tied to the persecution she feels as a harami. "[T]he husband fancies himself some kind of educated intellectual. But he's a mouse. Look at him. Doesn't he look like a mouse?" (1.12.13) Rasheed's attitude towards the educated is part and parcel with the Taliban's. In his eyes, intelligence is tied to weakness in men. And women? Well, why would you even teach them in the first place? A society has no chance at success if its women are uneducated, Laila. No chance. (2.16.56) Babi, on the other hand, is a devout believer in the importance of education. His dedication to the education of women stands out, as there are so few pro-women male voices in the novel. For the last two years, Laila had received the awal numra certificate, given yearly to the top-ranked student in each grade. She said nothing of these things to Hasina, though, whose own father was an ill-tempered taxi driver who in two or three years would almost certainly give her away. (2.16.57) There are gender double standards even when girls are allowed to go to school. The reality for many girls, like Giti and Hasina, is that an early arranged marriage is more likely than a college education. In fact, Babi thought that the one thing the communists had done right [...] was in the field of education [...] Almost two-thirds of the students at Kabul University were women now, Babi said. (2.18.103) The Soviet regime is portrayed harshly in A Thousand Splendid Suns, but its view on women's education is a rare bright spot. Even Babi has to give them credit despite the fact that they had fired him from his job as a teacher. There, men saw it as an insult to their centuries-old tradition, Babi said, to be told by the government—and a godless one at that—that their daughters had to leave home, attend school, and work alongside men. (2.18.108) Laila is born in Kabul where she has access to education, but many women in Afghanistan don't even get that opportunity. Even worse, the greater access to education for girls afforded by the Soviets prompts a backlash from rural communities. "He's going to ask for my hand, Laila! Maybe as early as this summer." [...] "What about school?" Laila had asked. Giti had tilted her head and given her a We both know better look. (2.23.60) Laila is dedicated to her schooling, but most of her female friends aren't. That might be due to societal pressure, or it might just be due to the realities of family life. Either way, the deck is stacked against girls who want to get an education. The streets became so unsafe that Babi did an unthinkable thing: He had Laila drop out of school. (2.24.32) Of course, the growing war between the Mujahideen has a big impact on the education system. The war doesn't only affect girls who want to go to school—it affects everyone. How can a country be expected to recover if its children can't get an education? Girls are forbidden from attending school. All schools for girls will be closed immediately. (3.38.45) One of the Taliban's first decrees is to ban girls from going to school. With one simple edict, the Taliban prevents an entire generation of girls from becoming educated and empowered. This allows the Taliban to remain firmly in power without having to worry about a women's uprising. Aziza said Kaka Zaman made it a point to teach them something every day [...] "But we have to pull the curtains," Aziza said, "so the Taliban don't see us." (3.42.75-76) Some girls, like Aziza, are still able to attain an education, despite the Taliban's regulations. But seriously: kids shouldn't have to hide from men with guns just because they want to do their homework.
ATSS Family
She understood what Nana meant, that a harami was an unwanted thing; that she, Mariam, was an illegitimate person who would never have legitimate claim to the things other people had, things such as love, family, home, acceptance. (1.1.6) Mariam's status as an illegitimate child leaves her without a true family. Nana holds a great deal of resentment towards Mariam, and Jalil refuses to acknowledge her as a real daughter. She picked up ten pebbles and arranged them vertically, in three columns. [...] She put four pebbles in the first column, for Khadija's children, three for Afsoon's, and three in the third column for Nagis's children. Then she added a fourth column. A solitary, eleventh pebble. (1.5.34) Mariam spends her childhood on the outside looking in. Although she doesn't entirely understand what it means to be a harami, she knows it means that she's isolated from the people that should be her family. Her time with Tariq's family always felt natural to Laila, effortless, uncomplicated by [...] the personal spites and grudges that infected the air at her own home. (2.18.47) Now tell us you can't relate to this. It's always nice to escape to a friend's calm home life from your family's craziness, but it's important to remember that no family is perfect. She would never leave her mark on Mammy's heart the way her brothers had, because Mammy's heart was like a pallid beach where Laila's footprints would forever wash away beneath the waves of sorrow that swelled and crashed. (2.20.23) Mammy has dedicated her life to the memory of her two sons, Ahmad and Noor. While this might seem heartwarming at first, the result is that she's unable to be there for Laila in the way a mother should be. Leaving Afghanistan had been unthinkable to her while Ahmad and Noor were still alive. Now that they were Shaheed, packing up and running was [...] a betrayal, a disavowal of the sacrifice her sons had made. (2.21.56) Again, Mammy's love for her sons is so strong that it actually hurts the people around her. Ironically, her dedication to her family is exactly what puts them in greater danger. "It's my father I can't leave," Laila said. "I'm all he has left. His heart couldn't take it either." Tariq knew this. He knew she could not wipe away the obligations of her life any more than he could his. (2.25.50-51) Family is hugely important to the characters of A Thousand Splendid Suns. Just like Babi is dedicated to Mammy, Laila is dedicated to Babi. These bonds are the most important things in the characters' lives. It is strange, Laila thinks, almost unsettling, the thing between Aziza and Tariq. Already Aziza is finishing his sentences and he hers. She hands him things before he asks for them. (4.48.15) This passage makes the argument that family goes deeper than simply "the people you grew up with." Tariq and Aziza have so many common traits that it's easy to forget that they only met a year earlier. That night, Zalmai wakes up coughing. Before Laila can move, Tariq swings his legs over the side of the bed. He straps on his prosthesis and walks over to Zalmai, lifts him up into his arms. (4.49.38) Zalmai is hesitant toward Tariq at first. On some level, he knows that Tariq has replaced Rasheed and that Rasheed isn't coming back. Eventually, though, Tariq proves himself to be a good father to Zalmai by caring for him through thick and thin. I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that I let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of losing face? [...] How little those things matter to me now after all the loss, all the terrible things I have seen in this cursed war. (4.50.150) There are few moments in the novel as powerful as this. It's clear from the start that Jalil loves Mariam, but he seems incapable of expressing it out of fear. It's not until he is stripped of the things that he clings to most that he's able to see how important Mariam was to him. When the children spot Laila, they come running [...] Some of them call her Mother. Laila does not correct them. (4.51.29) Family can be anybody. True, the bonds between Laila and her actual family are some of the strongest in the book, but her deep familial relationships with Mariam and the children of the orphanage show that anyone can fulfill that role.
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ATSS Afghanistan
[Jalil] was fond of sitting her on his lap and telling her stories, like the time he told her that Herat, the city where Mariam was born, in 1959, had once been the cradle of Persian culture, the home of writers, painters, and Sufis. (1.1.7) Although we never get a firsthand look at Herat in its prime, we hear countless stories about the city. The hip, bohemian Herat is a great contrast to the repressive political environment that characterizes Afghanistan in the second half of the novel. These women were—what was the word Rasheed had used?—"modern." Yes, modern Afghan women married to modern Afghan men who did not mind that their wives walked among strangers with makeup on their faces and nothing on their heads. (1.11.19) The word "modern" comes up again and again. Cities like Kabul are havens for modern Afghans, who prefer democratic values over traditional morality. As we'll come to see, though, not everyone agrees with this modern lifestyle. To me, it's nonsense—and very dangerous nonsense at that—all this talk of I'm a Tajik and you're a Pashtun and he's Hazara and she's Uzbek. We're all Afghans, and that's all that should matter. (2.18.46) There are a ton of different ethnic groups in Afghanistan, and there's plenty of tension to go around. These ethnic divisions even cause the downfall the Mujahideen. Babi, on the other hand, favors a nationalistic view of Afghanistan, rather than a tribal one. Here in Kabul, women taught at the university, ran schools, held office in the government. No, Babi meant the tribal areas, especially the Pashtun regions in the south or in the east near the Pakistani border, where women were rarely seen on the streets and only then in burqa and accompanied by men. (2.18.105) Afghanistan is defined by the tension between its cities and its rural areas. The cities are modern and educated, while the country is conservative and traditional. Both areas have their positive and negative qualities, but the tension between the two can sometimes cause chaos, as it does here. This, she thought, was Ahmad and Noor's Afghanistan. This, here in the provinces, was where the war was being fought, after all. Not in Kabul. Kabul was largely at peace. (2.21.7) Again, we see the importance of the division between urban and rural Afghanistan. While the Soviets are still in power, Laila remains in Kabul, blissfully isolated from the fighting. Of course, the war eventually reaches the city and brings with it the culture of rural Afghanistan. [Laila] thought longingly of the wide-open skies of her childhood, of her days of going to buzkashi tournaments with Babi and shopping at Mandaii with Mammy. (3.32.31) These peaceful images of pre-war Kabul show how "normal" life in Afghanistan was. Laila watched sports with her dad and went shopping with her mom. Does that seem much different from your day-to-day life? "How urbane, how Tajik of you. You think this is some new, radical idea the Taliban are bringing? Have you ever lived outside your precious little shell in Kabul, my gul?" (3.37.53) The different ethnic groups of Afghanistan have vastly different cultures. The Persian Tajiks are known for the metropolitan nature, while the Pashtuns have a conservative culture. These differences are embodied by Laila and Rasheed: she's a Tajik, and he's a Pashtun. That summer, Titanic fever gripped Kabul. People smuggled pirated copies of the film from Pakistan—sometimes in their underwear. After curfew, everyone locked their doors, turned out the lights, turned down the volume, and reaped tears for Jack and Rose. (3.41.12) American pop culture has a surprisingly big impact on the Kabul in A Thousand Splendid Suns. Even in the midst of a war, Afghans are so hungry for stories that they are willing to risk life and limb to watch a movie. [I]n the last few months, she has found herself missing the city of her childhood. She misses the bustle of Shor Bazaar, the Gardens of Babur, the call of the water carriers lugging their goatskin bags. (4.50.5) After the war, Laila often becomes nostalgic for the Kabul of her youth. Many of the places she remembers are destroyed, which leaves her and the other remaining Afghans with the task of rebuilding. For the first time in year, Laila hears music at Kabul's street corners, rubab and table, dootar, harmonium and tamboura, old Ahmad Zahir songs. (4.51.13) The Afghanistan portrayed in the novel is full of art, music, and culture, which makes the Taliban's ban of media all the more disheartening. Once the Taliban is defeated, however, it doesn't take long for that vibrant culture to peek its head back up again.
ATSS Warfare
"And that, my young friends, is the story of our country, one invader after another [...] Now the Soviets. But we're like those walls up there. Battered, and nothing looks pretty to look at, but still standing." (2.21.10) Afghanistan has seen its fair share of conquerors over its long history. This has been a huge strain on the country, but it gives its citizens a resilience that they wouldn't have developed otherwise. The Mujahideen, armed to the teeth but now lacking a common enemy, had found the enemy in each other. (2.23.135) This is a story as old as time. A coalition of different groups with different goals joins together to fight a common enemy. They emerge victorious, but then they fall apart because they can't agree on a future direction for the country. It wasn't so much the whistling itself, Laila thought later, but the seconds between the start of it and impact. [...] Like a defendant about to hear the verdict. (2.24.1-3) Every day Laila spends in war-torn Kabul is a risk, and the image of herself as a "defendant" symbolizes this. It just so happens that the "judge" is a crazy person, handing out punishments indiscriminately and without any regard for human life. "Fariba, all these people know is war," said Babi. "They learned to walk with a milk bottle in one hand and a gun in another." (2.24.29) War is a cyclical process. Children growing up in war-torn countries are forced to experience the horrors of war on a daily basis, and this shapes them. Some, like Laila, dedicate their lives to peace. Many, however, give in to the pressures of society and continue the cycle of violence. Giti was dead. Dead. Blown to pieces. At last, Laila began to weep for her friend. And all the tears that she hadn't been able to shed at her brothers' funeral came pouring down. (2.24.42) It's horrifying to imagine that one of your closest high school friends has been killed in the war. So far, Laila has been able to compartmentalize the death of her brothers because they've been so far away for so long. When Giti dies, however, the reality of her absence is immediate and crushing. Massoud's violent end brings her no joy, but she remembers too well the neighborhoods razed under his watch, the bodies dragged from the rubble, the hands and feet of children discovered on rooftops or the high branch of some tree days after their funeral. (4.49.7) When we talk about war, we often forget about the toll it takes on civilians. We see here that civilians are usually the ones who suffer the most during a war. It's easy to think about it if you put people into neat categories of "bad guys" and "good guys," but the truth is rarely so clear. The Americans have armed the warlords once more, and enlisted the help of the Northern Alliance to drive out the Taliban and find Bin Laden. (4.49.29) Again, the cycle of war continues. Sure, the Taliban is gone, but the Northern Alliance is far from a friendly organization. It's important to remember that it was the U.S. who armed the Mujahideen in the first place, setting off the chain reaction that led to the rise of the Taliban. Maybe this is necessary. Maybe there will be hope when Bush's bombs stop falling. But she cannot bring herself to say it, not when what happened to Babi and Mammy is happening to someone now in Afghanistan. (4.49.37) Laila is a true pacifist: she's experienced war directly and knows that even a "just war" can irreparably damage the lives of civilians. That's not to say that she is without hope; she's just realistic about the real effects of war. It slays Laila. It slays her that the warlords have been allowed back to Kabul. That her parents' murderers live in posh homes with walled gardens, that they have been appointed minister of this and deputy minister of that. (4.50.19) While the Kabul at the end of the book is healthier than it has been for many years, we still see the potential for future violence. It's a horrible irony that the people who caused the war in the first place are still profiting, while many citizens are struggling just to put the pieces of their lives back together. "I'm sorry," Laila says, marveling at how every Afghan story is marked by death and loss and imaginable grief. And yet, she sees, people find a way to survive, to go on. (4.50.59) This is the message of the book in a nutshell. By the end of the book, Laila has realized that the most difficult parts of her life—the death of her family, Rasheed's abuse—don't define her. Like her fellow Afghans, she knows that perseverance is the only answer in the face of such adversity.
ATSS Power
"No matter. The point is, I am your husband now, and it falls on me to guard not only your honor but ours, yes, our nang and namoos. That is the husband's burden. You let me worry about that." (3.31.11) This is a classic psychological power move from Rasheed. First, he ties Laila's honor with his. Then, he claims that it is his responsibility to guard their honor. In a few words, he's effectively taken ownership over Laila as a person. "Well, one does not drive a Volga and a Benz in the same manner. That would be foolish, wouldn't it?" (3.31.12) This sounds like a bad pick-up line, but it's really just straight up manipulative. By insulting Mariam and praising Laila, he's pitting the two against each other. That leaves them in conflict, while he takes control of both of them without resistance. "It's a matter of qanoon, hamshira, a matter of law," Rahman said, injecting his voice with a grave, self-important tone. "It is my responsibility, you see, to maintain order." (3.36.99) Sometimes power isn't flashy. The police officer, Rahman, probably thinks he is doing the right thing by upholding the law. But in reality, he's simply using his position of power to give himself a little ego boost. "You try this again and I will find you. [...] And, when I do, there isn't a court in this godforsaken country that will hold me accountable for what I will do." (3.36.147) Rasheed holds a frightening amount of power over Laila. This wouldn't be possible, however, if the government at large didn't support his right to do so. Laila is unable to escape because there simply isn't anyplace to go. Marco Polo Restaurant, near Chicken Street, had been turned into an interrogation center. Sometimes screaming was heard from behind its black-painted windows. (3.38.3) The image of a restaurant being used as an interrogation chamber might make you chuckle at first, but the reality is far more frightening. The citizens of Kabul must live in fear of being randomly grabbed for a minor infraction and then being brutally tortured. Mariam had heard about the announcement, in January of that year, that men and women would be seen in different hospitals, that all female staff would be discharged from Kabul's hospitals and sent to work in one central facility. (3.39.7) This absurd rule embodies the Taliban's abuse of power. The Taliban are so obsessed with wielding their authority over women that they relegate all of their female citizens to an understaffed and under-resourced facility. It's practically a death sentence. "They want us to operate in burqa," the doctor explained, motioning with her head to the nurse at the door. "She keeps watch. She sees them coming; I cover." (3.39.77) Here we see the jaded response of a woman who has been abused by power her entire life. Her resoluteness in the face of oppression is at once an inspiration, as well as a condemnation of the Taliban's ridiculous regulations. Rasheed didn't say anything. And, really, what could be said, what needed saying when you'd shoved the barrel of your gun into your wife's mouth? (3.40.56) When push comes to shove, power is simply about violence. Rasheed tries every trick in the book to break Laila's spirit, but each times, he fails. In this book, violence is always used to oppress the defenseless. It was the raids. [...] Sometimes monthly raids, sometimes weekly. Of late, almost daily. Mostly, the Taliban confiscated stuff, gave a kick to someone's rear, whacked the back of a head or two. But sometimes there were public beatings, lashings of soles and palms. (3.40.57) Power is often achieved through public shaming. The Taliban use their ban on media to make people fear their power. Better yet, by making people afraid of them, they gain even greater control. "God has made us differently, you women and us men. Our brains are different. [...] This is why we require only one male witness but two female ones." (3.47.21) Think about this regulation: it's saying that women are half-people. As we've seen throughout history, the powerful dehumanize their victims in order to break their morale. The Taliban is no different.
ATSS Poverty
"What good are all your smarts to you now? What's keeping you off the streets, your smarts or me? I'm despicable? Half the women in the city would kill to have a husband like me. They would kill for it." (3.38.22) This is an unfortunate truth that the educated, middle-class Laila has yet to realize. It's easy to pursue your dreams when you have money, but it's much harder when finances are tight. This becomes doubly true once the Taliban basically forbids women from making a living. "There is no time," she said. "For one thing, none of the nearby pharmacies have it. [...] Even if you find it, chances are you can't afford it. Or you'll find yourself in a bidding war with someone just as desperate." (3.39.70) In America, people debate over the price of medical care until they go blue in the face, but they should count their blessings that things aren't this bad. There's little doubt that the warlords who run the government have plenty of money to buy medical care for themselves, leaving little for poor women like Laila. Laila told him she didn't care what other people did with their children. "I'll keep a close eye on her," Rasheed said, less patiently now. "It's a safe corner. There's a mosque across the street!" "I won't let you turn my daughter into a street beggar!" Laila snapped. (3.40.46-48) Okay, you think child labor is bad? How about making your child pretend to be a homeless street beggar? Laila rightfully shoots down the idea, but the fact that it's an option indicates the direness of their financial status. After the fire, Rasheed was home almost every day. He slapped Aziza. He kicked Mariam. He threw things. He found fault with Laila, the way she smelled, the way she dressed, the way she combed her hair, her yellowing teeth. (3.41.24) The experience of living in poverty has a profound effect on personal relationships. Rasheed takes out his frustration about money on Mariam, Laila, and Aziza, despite the fact that many of the problems are his fault. When the money ran out, hunger began to cast a pall over their lives. It was stunning to Mariam how quickly alleviating hunger became the crux of their existence. (3.41.36) How can you expect people to go about their daily lives without food in their stomachs? To be honest, the Shmoop staff won't even start working until we've had a breakfast burrito and two large coffees each. Speaking of which... Death from starvation suddenly became a distinct possibility. Some chose not to wait for it. Mariam heard of a neighborhood widow who had ground some dried bread, laced it with rat poison, and fed it to all seven of her children. She had saved the biggest portion for herself. (3.41.38) People do crazy things when they have no hope. The neighborhood woman from this passage saw poverty as a slow death, choosing instead to take control herself. What she does is unthinkable, but it's not hard to see how her actions were shaped by her circumstances. "It isn't your fault. Do you hear me? Not you. It's those savages, those washis who are to blame [...] And you're not alone, hamshira. We get mothers like you all the time—all the time—mothers who come here who can't feed their children because the Taliban won't let them go out and make a living. So you don't blame yourself. No one here blames you. I understand." (3.42.49) Laila needs to hear these words from Zaman. When you're as desperate as Laila is, it's easy to blame yourself for your circumstances. Zaman reminds her that she too is a victim of bigger political and economic forces. Laila would notice the dirt under Aziza's fingernails, and Aziza would notice her noticing and bury her hands under her thighs. Whenever a kid cried in their vicinity, snot oozing from his nose, or if a kid walked by bare-assed, hair clumped with dirt, Aziza's eyelids fluttered and she was quick to explain it away. She was like a hostess embarrassed in front of her guests by the squalor of her home. (3.42.97) People think that kids don't notice things as much as adults, but we can see here how living in the impoverished orphanage is impacting Aziza. Like Laila, she feels unduly guilty for the conditions she's living in. Aziza stammered now. Mariam noticed it first. It was subtle but perceptible, and more pronounced with words that began with t. Laila asked Zaman about it. He frowned and said, "I thought she'd always done that." (3.42.105) Aziza didn't exactly have an easy life before the orphanage. She struggled alongside her family after Rasheed's shop burned down. The conditions at the orphanage must be pretty bad for her to be so shaken up by them. He watched little emaciated boys carrying water in their jerry cans, gathering dog droppings to make a fire, carving toy AK-47s out of wood with dull knives, lugging the sacks of wheat flour that no one could make bread from that held together. (3.44.37) This is a heartbreaking image of the reality of poverty. It's even more upsetting that the children are playing with toy guns, because the war is one of the biggest causes of widespread poverty.
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