Our footsteps echo down the long, cold hallway. The beige walls hold no heat and the cold lingers as if the walls had never known warmth. Windows interspaced along the hall reflect the gray sky. Turning the corner, we come to a young man armed with an Ak-47. He looks at us pensively, and then seeing a member of our party he recognizes, waives us through the metal detector – somewhat of a luxury in Afghan governmental buildings. We walk down another long hallway, our footsteps creating an echo chamber from the absence of furnishings.
Another guard opens a non-distinct, dark brown, wooden door and we step from the cold into the warmth of Maria Bashir’s office. Just off center is a wood–burning stove providing a bit of heat in this cold, barren building. Large, black, leather chairs adorned the side walls, glass tables in front with small trays of nuts and dried fruits – a testament to Afghan hospitality in spite of meager surroundings. The warmth of the stove was, perhaps, symbolic of the warmth radiating from this brave woman.
Maria Bashir is the only female prosecutor in Afghanistan and she fights corruption and protects the rights of women in one of its largest cities. However, her battle is a bit more difficult than that of other prosecutors; she fights not just injustice, but a misogynistic culture – one that almost demonizes the female. By all accounts she is different, untouched by the corruption that is endemic in this country. In a nation lacking truly admirable statesmen, it is a woman that stands out. She is indeed fighting the good fight. That she continues her struggle in the face of continual threats and multiple attempts on her life is a testament to her courage. If the men who purport to run this country had any sense, they would harness the righteousness and international acclaim that follows this woman. That they do not is quite telling.
I watched her as she met with my boss. She seemed at war with herself. Almost reflexively she continually pushed her hair back into her headscarf and readjusted its position. I saw her do this numerous times at an earlier event and also during television interviews. Perhaps it was her strong will causing her to instinctively chafe under a metaphorical yoke, as if the headscarf served as a symbol of all that stood in the way of equality and her desired accomplishments. She spoke in an almost demure manner, not always maintaining eye contact and held a reserved posture. However, when the topic came to her efforts to rid Herat of corruption, she changed. Her voice lifted slightly, eye contact was constant and the firmness in her voice hinted at the rigidity of her convictions. At that moment, there was no doubt who held control of the room; her presence filled it.
As I watched her I couldn’t help but think about her future. What will happen to her when the international coalition leaves, when the money for her private security dries up? She does not seem to be of the type to leave for she stayed even during the Taliban years and secretly educated women in her home. Former mujahidin commander Ismail Khan controls Herat, the city in which she lives and works. Given his power, one would think she operates at his pleasure, even now. Afghanistan can only hope he will continue to support her efforts. But, I wonder….
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