Post-Taliban trauma of Afghan women revealed
Lorraine Rossignol in Kabul

Every night Fahima imagines that she is back in her house before it
was  destroyed by the Taliban two years ago. As she closes her eyes she
hears  wedding music. In fact she is in one of the wards of Sehat
Rawani, a  rundown psychiatric hospital in Kabul.  "This is a case of
post-Taliban stress disorder," says Temorshah Mosamam,  the hospital's
assistant manager. "Women were under increasing pressure  for six
years. That's why they make up the majority of our patients
-  particularly as they now have access to health care."  In the case
of women who refused to accept the fact that they were   required to
wear burkas and were not allowed to work or study, their  disorders
gradually disappeared after the fall of the Taliban. But the  more
psychologically fragile still experience anything from
palpitations,  breathlessness, epileptic fits and hysteria to paranoia,
psychosis and  suicidal tendencies.

  Dr Fawad Pirzad, a doctor specialising in neurosurgery, who kept
his  practice open in Kabul during the years of terror, says: "In the
course of  my home visits I sometimes find women in chains. Because
there are no  hospital beds available, their families take that
precaution to prevent  them from throwing themselves down a well."   He
tells the story of a Kabul woman who fled from home because she
was  haunted by the vision of a man with a yellow beard. She was
later  discovered hanging from a tree by her burka. "Inner voices that
order them  to leave home are a common symptom," says Pirzad. They are
women who have  witnessed too many horrors in their homes - armed men
who burst in at any  time, beat them and drag off their husbands.

  The beard has become a symbol of aggression. They are terrified of
anyone  wearing one, and dread the return of the Taliban. In a country
where there  are no statistics, it is impossible to know how many women
have been  affected in this way.   Pirzad thinks that they account for
30% of his patients. Mosamam says  that 10% suffer from serious
disorders and another 20% from slight  after-effects: "The trouble is
that some of the women don't realise  they're ill, and therefore don't
turn up here. Others ask us for  painkillers, then go home because they
believe they are wasting their time  talking rubbish."

  Reclining on a psychoanalyst's couch has not yet become part of
local  culture. And even if there were women who wanted to, and could
afford to  do so, there are few psychoanalysts in Kabul. "We need to be
able to offer  nursing homes where families can be confident that
patients are treated  properly," says Pirzad.

   The emphasis would have to be on a talking cure, as the
traditional  method of getting patients to describe their disorders
with drawings or in  writing would not work - most Afghan women are
illiterate.  But when the Taliban were still in power Pirzad noticed
that words  furtively exchanged by women who were queuing at his
practice - duly  accompanied by a male member of their family - had a
liberating effect.

  The women discovered that they were not alone in
experiencing  hallucinations.  At their future nursing homes Afghan
women will be able to express  themselves in similar fashion, but much
more freely. October 16 >

>The Guardian Weekly 31-10-2002