For over a week now, fierce clashes have erupted between tribes in Kurram’s Sangina, Sadda, Kunj Alizai, Bagan, and other areas, with heavy weaponry being used. The gravity of this tragedy only became apparent to me recently.
The nationwide internet disruptions caused by the PTI’s Islamabad march meant that I hadn’t seen anything about it on social media. It wasn’t until yesterday that a friend from Kurram, who had witnessed the horror firsthand, told me her story. What follows is her account, in her own words:
"I’m married and live with my in-laws, just 150 meters from my mother’s house. As evening fell, my sister called me, her voice trembling, 'Recharge my mobile credit, please.' I was confused and asked if everything was alright. She told me our village was under attack, the gunfire had set homes ablaze. 'Call the men to bring the children home,' she urged, 'and arrange a vehicle to get us to safety.'
Usually, the village children go to the madrasa after Maghrib prayers. But this was no time to find a vehicle. My sister-in-law is pregnant, and though we would stay in the village, we needed to move her to a safer place. No one knew the village was mourning. Everyone’s focus was on saving the children, the elderly, and the women. No one took livestock, household items, or money. Our women, who usually wear burqas, stepped outside with only veils, fearing only for their dignity."
"As we left and climbed the mountains, it was 11 p.m. My pregnant sister-in-law suddenly realized her young daughter wasn’t with us—she’d been left behind in her cradle. She sobbed, pleading to go back, but my sister reminded her it was impossible. Shelling continued, the village was in flames. She wept, saying, 'I’m having a heart attack. I can’t go on.' My sister tried in vain to call villagers until she finally learned that the baby was safe; a neighbor had taken her along."
"My cousin, who had recently undergone surgery, walked with us despite her stitches tearing open. The pain she endured—only God and we know."
Hearing this harrowing tale, I was left speechless. I had no words to console my friend, let alone ask for more details. Somehow, I bid her farewell, but her story stayed with me all day as I tried to write this blog. Time and again, my mind would go numb, and my hands would be paralyzed. This humble effort is my plea to the tribal leaders, the government, and anyone in a position of power: do something, anything, to end this senseless violence.
I urge everyone reading this to help the displaced families of Kurram in any way possible. Hard times can fall on anyone, at any time. Let's be there for our brothers and sisters in need.
