The Afghan woman who plays basketball despite the Taliban's ban

Special correspondent in KabulHer home is on an unpaved street in Kabul, where cars have difficulty moving and where, logically, it is impossible to go by wheelchair. That's why Fauzia Emadi moves with two wooden crutches. She is barely 1.40 meters tall, because her legs are as if shrunk, arched. She cannot move them. She also has thinner arms than normal and it is impressive to see her hands: her fingers are deformed as if she were an old woman with arthritis, even though she is only 31 years old. According to her, all her joints hurt.

In fact, it is surprising that, under these conditions, this woman can move by herself. It is also striking that she goes out on the street without a mask covering her face, a scarf that does not let any of her hair be seen, or a long black tunic that hides her body shape, as most Afghan women do in Kabul since the Taliban regained power five years ago, and ordered women to cover themselves from head to toe. All of this says a lot about her: she seems like a courageous woman.

"Since I was nine years old I have had chronic rheumatism – she explains–. When my mother died, I started to feel unwell, but, as we were poor, they couldn't take me to the doctor." Thus, her bones gradually deformed and became increasingly rigid, until a point was reached where she could no longer walk. Her family then lived in a remote rural area of the province of Badakhshan, in northern Afghanistan, where it was difficult to get help. Afterwards, they moved to Kabul, in the hope of finding a cure there.

At the orthopedic center of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in the Afghan capital, they offered her physiotherapy, a wheelchair, a small monthly financial aid, and home-based classes so she could complete her secondary education. But what fulfills her the most is that every Monday she plays wheelchair basketball there, despite the ban imposed by the Taliban on women in Afghanistan participating in sports. In fact, the few women's gyms that existed in the city were closed, and the female athletes who were part of the national team were expelled. Those who could, fled the country seeking an alternative.

“Men can participate in international competitions,” complains Fauzia, referring to the men's wheelchair basketball teams that also train at the ICRC facilities, and to whom the Taliban pose no problem for traveling abroad to compete. They, on the other hand, are prohibited from doing so. It can be said that the Taliban are already doing them a favor by letting them play sports. They consent because the ICRC presents the training sessions as “therapeutic basketball” sessions. That is, as if they were part of the treatment. The radical regime only allows women to play sports with a medical prescription.

"On one occasion, the Taliban's morality police reprimanded me for not covering my face, nor wearing the hijab properly. I replied: come on, leave me alone," Fauzia assures, that she told them off without thinking twice, because she was so extremely exhausted from walking with crutches that it was the first thing that came to her mind. The Taliban then realized she had a disability and didn't bother her anymore.

Criticism and mockery

On the other hand, Fauzia assures that ordinary people do bother her every time she goes out on the street: they make fun of her, criticize her, or whisper when they see her. "They think that because I have a disability, I should stay locked up at home. But I want to study and have a job," she states.

Fauzia currently lives with her sister, a 28-year-old woman who is nine months pregnant, and has a five-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter. The sister's mother-in-law and sister-in-law also live in the house, as well as another family with whom they share the rent expenses. Her husband, on the other hand, is rarely there because he spends long periods in northern Afghanistan working in a mine.

It is a humble house, with a carpeted floor and dirty, peeling walls, where the only luxuries are a small flat-screen television hung on the wall, a fan, a washing machine, and an electric wheelchair that the Rupani Foundation has just gifted to Fauzia. It is noticeable that it is completely new. "The Rupani Foundation used to award a computer to students with the best grades. I asked them to give me a wheelchair instead of a computer," explains the woman, who regrets that the one given to her by the ICRC was stolen, one day when she left it parked on the street, in front of a relative's house. In Afghanistan, neither houses, nor streets, nor absolutely anything is adapted for people who use wheelchairs.

Despite all this, Fauzia goes every day with her new electric wheelchair to computer classes at the Rupani Foundation. It takes her half an hour to get there. She says she would love to study abroad, get an education, become someone. She also trusts that outside her country she could find a cure for her illness. In Afghanistan, she laments, they can no longer do anything more for her. This is corroborated by a certificate issued by a prestigious medical center in Kabul: there is no treatment in the country. However, leaving the country is not so easy. Pakistan, India, and Iran were common destinations for Afghans needing surgery or specialized treatment. Since the Taliban came to power, however, these countries have closed their borders and grant visas only sparingly. Fauzia, however, does not lose hope: "I wish someone who reads my story would want to help me in some way," she sighs.