I I I eye!

Book club will open a poetry section shortly, so keep reading and book club will keep you posted. (Nadia Anjuman Herawi (Nadja Anjoman) a young poet from Afghanistan who shines a shuddering light on the plight of daily survival living in an oppressive system. In her native country of Afghanistan, where education in remote regions for girls is almost unwelcome and shunned. The attempts to remove her from her artistic creations resulted in her demise! In remote regions and in society people often get caught up in the plight to survive with competitive force is being one of nutrition and a violent propensity in the use of bruit force, this is often the only deciding factor as to what will be. Self expression will be met with a force of resistance and where infrastructure is built up around communication it is certain to torn down? it is something the west has yet to view. Concerning the nutrition and building ways for these remote societies will take decades as it takes several generations to overcome the simplistic resolves. Here is a lovely poem from Nadia who demise may bring a new understanding to Shiah communities of Afghanistan that the arts are of value, among the world and records have always to be maintained.

A poem by Nadia Anjoman
Translated by Mahnaz Badihian

No desire to open my mouth
What should I sing of...?
I, who am hated by life.
No difference to sing or not to sing.
Why should I talk of sweetness,
When I feel bitterness?
Oh, the oppressor's feast
Knocked my mouth.

I have no companion in life
Who can I be sweet for?
No difference to speak, to laugh,
To die, to be.
Me and my strained solitude.
With sorrow and sadness.
I was borne for nothingness.
My mouth should be sealed.

Oh my heart, you know it is spring
And time to celebrate.
What should I do with a trapped wing,
Which does not let me fly?
I have been silent too long,
But I never forget the melody,
Since every moment I whisper
The songs from my heart,
Reminding myself of
The day I will break this cage,
Fly from this solitude
And sing like a melancholic.
I am not a weak poplar tree
To be shaken by any wind.
I am an Afghan woman,
It only makes sense to moan

In 2005 Anjuman published her first book of poetry, Gul-e-dodi ("Dark Flower") or Flowers of Smoke as it quickly became popular in Afghanistan and neighboring Iran.Nadia Anjuman Herawi (Nadja Anjoman) was a lovely, talented, brave (nay, heroic!) Afghani poet who died at the age of 25 under highly suspicious circumstances near Herat. Independent Human Rights Commission reported that 60% of marriages are forced, while 40% of these, are only girls in the first year of school 11% of these girls are under 15 years of age. Well under the acceptable age of the western counterpart. Honour killing bullying and violence are increasing. The international community powerless to intervene with this theft of a woman's very dignity been stripped away. Their is hope that President "Hamid Karzai" will bring a responsibility among religious leaders, as not to make the Dowry the only controlling factor for unjust marriage's, among these girls destinies.There is a responsibility to allow education to prosper. So the civilian population can adjust to survival, this is a duty!