Malalai Joya - Raising my Voice: The extraordinary story of the Afghan woman who dares to speak out

I COME FROM A LAND OF TRAGEDY called Afghanistan. My life has taken some unusual turns, but in many ways my story is the story of a generation. For the thirty years I have been alive, my country has suffered from the constant scourge of war. Most Afghans my age and younger have known only bloodshed, displacement and occupation. When I was a baby in my mother's arms, the Soviet Union invaded my country. When I was four years old, my family and I were forced to live as refugees in Iran and then Pakistan. Millions of Afghans were killed or exiled, like my family, during the battle-torn 1980s. When the Russians finally left, and their puppet regime was overthrown, we faced a vicious civil war between fundamentalist warlords, followed by the rule of the depraved and medieval Taliban.

After the tragic day of 11 September 2001, many inAfghanistan thought that with the overthrow of the Taliban they might finally see some light, some justice and progress. But itwas not to be. The Afghan people have been betrayed once againby those who are claiming to help them. More than seven yearsafter the invasion by America and its allies, we are still faced withforeign occupation and an American-backed government filledwith warlords who are just like the Taliban. Instead of puttingthese ruthless murderers on trial for war crimes, the United Statesand its allies placed them in positions of power, where theycontinue to terrorise ordinary Afghans.

You may be shocked to hear this, because the truth aboutAfghanistan has been hidden behind a smokescreen of words andimages carefully crafted by the United States and its NATO alliesand repeated without question by the Western media.

You may have been led to believe that once the Taliban wasdriven from power, justice returned to my country. Afghanwomen like me, voting and running for office, have been heldup as proof that the United States has brought democracy andwomen's rights to Afghanistan.

But it is all a lie, dust in the eyes of the world.

I am the youngest Member of the Afghan Parliament, but I havebeen banished from my seat and threatened with death because Ispeak the truth about the warlords and criminals in the puppet governmentof Hamid Karzai. I have already survived at least fiveassassination attempts and uncounted plots against me. Because ofthis, I am forced to live like a fugitive within my own country.A trusted uncle heads my detail of bodyguards, and we move todifferent houses every night to stay a step ahead of my enemies.

To hide my identity, I must travel under the cover of theheavy cloth burqa, which to me is a symbol of women'soppression, like a shroud for the living. Even during the darkdays of the Taliban I could at least go outside under the burqa toteach girls in secret classes. But today I don't feel safe under myburqa, even with armed guards to escort me. My visitors aresearched for weapons, and even the flowers at my wedding had tobe checked for bombs. I cannot tell you my family's name, or thename of my husband, because it would place them in terribledanger. And for this reason, I have changed several other namesin this book.