Afghan Widow, Married 3 Brothers
From time to time, their Taliban brother visited. But then it got hard to do so as more Marines poured into Marja.
A year went by with no word from Khadija’s husband until one night a Taliban delegation came with his lifeless body wrapped in a shroud and turned it over to the family. Khadija was a widow at age 10. Two of Mr. Haq’s other brothers became police officers, because the pay was good and there were few other jobs in the middle of war.
Khadija then married one of them: Mr. Haq’s next oldest brother, Aminullah. It was her father’s decision; she knew she had no choice in the matter.
Aminullah, 22, was fabled as a fighter with the Afghan police, his family members said. “He could han- dle every kind of heavy weapon, and the Taliban were afraid of him,” Mr. Shamsuddin said.
Khadija raves about Aminullah, too. “He promised when he came home that I could remove my burqa, and he was going to bring me good clothes, and we would have a good life,” she said. “He was a good man, and a good husband.”
He was also fiercely devoted to the government’s cause, Khadija said. “He would say, ‘I will never leave my country to them, as long as there is blood in my body, I will fight them.’ Whenever he went out, I was always watching the door until he came back.”
She was pregnant with their daughter when Aminullah did not come back, in 2014. He was killed on the highway by a roadside bomb.
“I lost him and I was thinking, ‘How could this happen to me?’ ” she said. “But it is God’s decision, so I can say nothing.”
Mr. Shamsuddin said that the family fled Marja and moved to Lashkar Gah. At 14, Khadija gave birth to her daughter, Roqia. After waiting the Quranic-stipulated four months and 10 days after Aminullah’s death, Khadija married Mr. Shamsuddin in 2015.
Mr. Shamsuddin, who picked up English from United States troops, worked as an interpreter for the Marines. That job ended when the Marines left Afghanistan in 2013. Today, Mr. Shamsuddin earns $5 a day as a rickshaw driver.
Khadija and Mr. Shamsuddin have a son together, Sayed Rahman, 1. The Taliban have Mr. Shamsuddin’s phone number and often call him, he said. “They say they will kill me and then kill Sayed Rahman.”
“My wife is very strong. Some lesser person would not have survived what she has survived,” Mr. Shamsuddin said. “She is not expecting very much from me; financially I don’t have much to give her, just good words and good behavior. Even though I believe men should beat women when they don’t listen, I have never had to beat her.” He said it is a sad responsibility, marrying the wife of a dead brother. “When you look at her, you always see your brother.”
It was a sadness for Khadija, too. “Once I had dreams, but I cannot talk about my dreams with anyone, because I am a woman,” she said. “Once I wanted to study and be an educated woman who could stand on my own two feet, but in my culture it is not possible. Now my biggest dream is that I do not want this husband to be killed by the Taliban. I ask God to protect him.”
For Khadija, though, her heart will forever be with Aminullah. “No man has ever kissed me but him,” she said. “Now I can only kiss my son.” When she thinks about Aminullah, breathing becomes difficult, she said. “I cry when I’m alone.”