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While the Taliban regime has just put in place even stricter bans on women, prohibiting them from speaking in public or wearing perfume, the Franco-Afghan writer and director launches a cry of revolt, in the name of all his oppressed compatriots.
More words and screams. More weapons and tears. Desperately.
I wonder if I still have words to say about my native land, Afghanistan, the incarnate figure of desolation!
And the voice to cry, weapons to take up, tears to shed…
No. I feel as helpless as the empty hands of an Afghan father who returns home unable to feed his family. As humiliated as that young boy who cannot have the beard demanded by the Taliban. As invisible as that Afghan television presenter, who is not allowed to show words on her lips. As frustrated as those couples in love who no longer know how to recite poems of love to each other… And as deaf and blind as the great world powers. As ridiculous as those men of the United Nations, seated at a table with that army of darkness, the Taliban, who even impose on them their will not to have a single woman at the negotiating table!
What a farce, this filthy world!
Do I need to write these words again? I wonder.
I am tired of writing and hearing these same empty phrases, these condemnations “farms” who have never shaken a single cretin of the Taliban who came to destroy my land, nor these oil kings who finance them, nor their arms and Koran merchants who, directly or indirectly, cherish them.
No sanctions, no embargo will bring smiles back to the lips of Afghan women,
