The Hazara refugees and the language translation dilemma

Case one:

Fatima and her parents have been living in London for four years. They are Hazaras. Recently, in a conversation on WhatsApp, she told me, “My parents are facing a serious problem. When they go to the doctor, they hire a Persian or Dari interpreter. Neither the interpreter understands Fatima’s parents, nor Fatima’s parents understand the interpreter’s translation.” Her parents speak Hazaragi, a Farsi-based creole language with borrowed words from Turkic-Mongol languages. It is spoken only by the Hazara people in central Afghanistan and those in the diaspora. 

Several times, she and her sister have accompanied her parents to the appointments. Yesterday, when we spoke on the phone, “My sister and I are both working. We can’t quit our jobs and become interpreters for our parents," said Fatima, explaining the family's dilemma of juggling work and volunteering as translators for their parents. "But we also know that no one can translate what my parents say except a Hazara interpreter.” 

She also mentioned that a Hazara family in their neighborhood has stopped going to the doctor and government offices altogether because of the difficulty in communicating with a non-Hazaragi interpreter, unless a volunteer community member comes to their aid.

Fatima's parents' dilemma with finding Hazaragi translators is not an isolated issue. A relative of mine in Canada has the same problem. She is a Hazara. Every time a Dari or Farsi translator is hired, neither she nor her husband understands the translator, and the translator does not understand them either. I sometimes volunteer to translate for them remotely when I have time.

Case two:

Four years ago, in the United States, Customs and Border Protection (CBP) hired a non-Hazara translator (someone from a Pashtun or Tajik background) for a young Hazara man who had just crossed the Mexican border into the United States. After an hour of translation, the young Hazara was separated from the other immigrants and thrown into solitary confinement. Two months later, three FBI agents showed up at the door of one of his relatives in another state.

"That morning," Abbas says to me at his apartment as we are sipping green tea, "the doorbell rang. I opened the door. There, three men and one woman in plain clothes were standing."

Before he could finish asking how he could help them, they showed their badges and identified themselves as FBI agents.

Abbas continued: "They asked me, 'Do you know Ghulam Hussain?' I said, 'Yes. He is from our village. We went to school together. After 12th grade, he went to Kabul and studied at university, then got a job in the government and worked on US projects. He worked in the government until it collapsed."

Abbas, who is a distant relative of Ghulam Hussain, says the officers looked at each other, paused, and then asked whether Ghulam Hussain had gone to Iran and fought in Syria.

"Absolutely not," Abbas responded. "As far as I know, he never left Afghanistan. I have all his documents and records on my computer, by the way." Abbas told me that Ghulam Hussain had scanned and emailed all his documents before burning the originals to protect himself from Taliban persecution. "I opened my laptop and showed them all his school, university, and government records."

Then the FBI agents asked him to email all the PDFs to them, which he did. 

The non-Hazara translator mistranslated and lied to the customs officers, saying that Ghulam Hussain had traveled to Iran and fought in Syria. Abbas told me that the officers left his apartment, and in two weeks, Ghulam Hussain was released from the prison and granted asylum based on evidence of his collaboration with the Afghanistani government and US development projects.

As we are taking a break from drinking too much green tea and pondering whether to step outside for a walk, I asked Abbas, "Why do you think the translator lied to the CBP officers?

His response was short: "The same thing they did to the Hazara in Afghanistan. They are Hazaras, and if you hire a Dari translator who is Pashtun or Tajik background, they mistranslate, and even lie with the purpose of harm."

The Hazaras' persecution continues in the diaspora, partly at the hands of the same people with whom they shared a country, culture, and history. Hazaras have been persecuted in Afghanistan mainly at the hands of Pashtuns and often Tajiks, and that appears to continue in the diaspora as well. 

"Here is the solution," said Abbas, raising both hands, pressing his fingers together. "Recognizing and registering Hazaragi as an independent language in government offices in Western countries is a humane and urgent need. Doing so would not only solve the problem of administrative communication but would also help end the cycle of systematic discrimination against Hazaras and reduce the suffering of Hazara communities in the Western world. Therefore, Hazaras should work toward having Hazaragi formally registered as an independent language in Australia, the United Kingdom, Germany, the United States, Canada, and every other country where Hazaras have settled."

Hazaras and their enthusiasm as a weapon against evil

Below is an image that went viral on social media among Afghanistanis. It shows a group of Hazara doctors volunteers from Dasht-e Barchi, a Hazara neighborhood in the West of Kabul, on board a helicopter bound for Kunar. The yellow barrel in front of them is filled with donated blood of Hazaras to the earthquake victims in Kunar, who are all Pashtuns. This is just from one group of Hazara doctors. Looking at this photo and the faces of these Hazara doctors who are going to save the Pashtuns makes me ask, what drives them to such unbridled enthusiasm for Pashtuns who are hostile to them? This happens in the backdrop of the ongoing genocidal campaign against the Hazara people by the Taliban, who are the Pashtuns. How can one absorb this contradiction? There is more to it, though.

image source: from social media

Now, this selfless act of Hazara doctors is both paradoxical and sad. This week, the Taliban decided to transfer the equipment of the only hospital that remained functional in Dasht-e Barchi, the Hazara neighborhood, to district 12, in eastern Kabul, which is predominantly occupied by Pashtuns. This happens despite the repeated pleas from residents of Dasht-e Barchi. Mohammad Ali Jinnah Hospital in Dasht-e Barchi, west of Kabul, was built with Pakistani aid and became functional in 2019. Removing necessary equipment from the hospital is detrimental because it directly hampers patient care and causes operational inefficiencies. 

Muhammad Ali Jinnah Hospital in the west of Kabul. Image source: social media

Four years after Kabul fell: remembering Hazara struggle and survival

Afghanistan's modern history is shaped by significant violent events, wars, coups, and foreign invasions. One such event took place on August 15, 2021. On this day, Ashraf Ghani fled the country without notifying his cabinet and security apparatus, and so, he let the Taliban take over without any fight.

Today marks the 4th year of the fall of Kabul to the hands of the Taliban. Though outwardly bloodless in its first hours, what followed in the coming days was nothing but a bloody, violent takeover. 

 It is a dark day by any measure. The fall of Afghanistan brought an abrupt end to the Hazara's liberation, a period that brought a brief respite to their relentless persecution and genocide.

Today, Hazaras are being completely excluded from politics, barred from participating in government programs, contracts, and barred even from occupying menial jobs in their own districts and principalities. Thousands of Hazara families are being evicted from their villages and homes; instead, their properties and lands are given to Pashtun nomads (Kochis) loyal to the Taliban. Three weeks ago, the Taliban forcefully evicted 25 Hazara families from their ancestral lands and gave their lands to Pashtun nomads. 

The Hazara persecution has been going on for a while, but under the Taliban, it took a different shape. A large group of people were forcibly displaced and their lands and properties confiscated. In another instance, the Taliban and their Pashtun allies resorted to extortion. Claiming damages to their sheep and goats four or five decades ago in order to claim ransom. Many villages are emptied simply because they could not afford the ransom and could not survive the persecution.

On a more optimistic note: yes, it is a dark day for Hazara men and women and children who are stripped of opportunities, but there is hope for the next Hazara generation. Children of Hazaras are inheritors of their ancestral resilience and survival. They will learn that even in the face of a genocidal campaign and endless discrimination, Hazaras' memory, culture, and the demands for justice will never be erased.

Targeted killings of Hazaras by Sunni Islamist Militants

Today, Islamic militants have targeted school children belonging to ethnic Hazara in Dasht-e Barchi, a predominantly Hazara community in west of Kabul. A car bomb blasted right outside of the main gate of Sayed al-Shuhada, a secondary school as students, mostly girls, were exiting. Eyewitnesses have told that the explosion was followed by mortars and some residents have even heard gunshots as well. According to CNN, 85 people are killed and 150 others are wounded. It is still early, the number of casualty may grow.

My heart is bleeding with sorrow for children who died today. Sunni Islamist militants are committed to their beliefs and principles inspired by their holy book and god to kill us and our children. The enormity of such a crime is so horrendous that cannot be fathomed and cannot be put into words or described other than being indignant at your inability to do anything but to begin wringing your hands in silent rage amidst incessant weeping.

For the past few years, Hazaras have been systematically targeted across Afghanistan. This attack is part of a series of targeted killings of the Hazaras. The Afghan government is unable to protect them, in fact, the Hazara population look on government and its local authorities with growing suspicion. There is no option left for the Hazaras but to pick up arms and protect their own communities. As the US and other foreign forces are withdrawing from Afghanistan, the risk of relapsing into a renewed civil war is very likely. Hazaras must be prepared for the worst.