One Year After Her Family Died In U.S. Airstrike, Seven-Year-Old Afghan Girl Lives In Constant Fear

Seven-year-old Zahra looks like a typical Afghan girl in her traditional long dress and scarf, her short black hair peeking out from her head covering. She sticks close to home, seldom venturing far from her house. But it is not tradition that keeps her home but fear.

On the night of August 22 2008, all of Zahra's immediate family was killed by American bombs. In pursuit of Taliban commander Mullah Siddiq, United States Special Forces and the Afghan army launched an airstrike on the village of Azizabad in Shindand district of Herat. An investigation by the United Nations said that 90 people, 60 children and 30 adults, died.

The American military initially denied that any civilians were harmed in the attack. Only after prolonged pressure, in October of last year, did they acknowledge that the strike killed 33 civilians.

Zahra's father, mother, sister and two brothers died that night. She is the only survivor, together with her grandmother, Maryam, known in the village as Pori. One year later the two traumatized females, one seven years old the other 75, are still living in Azizabad, in a small, dirty, three-room house donated to them by a kind-hearted neighbor.

The house the pair inhabit has no doors and no windows. Inside it is dark and dusty - the floor is carpeted with old sacks. It looks more like a dirty storeroom than a place where people live. There are some teacups, two buckets full of water, three small pots and three threadbare blankets. Every day Zahra cleans and arranges the few items they possess.

The rest of the time she sits alone, staring into the void.

"I loved my family very much," she said, tears in her dark eyes. "Every moment I hear the voices of my mother, father, sister and brothers calling me, but I can't see them. We had a good life. I used to play with my brothers and sister on the street. My father was Abdurrashid, my mother was Khumari, my sister was Huma and my brothers were Halim and Salim. The Americans killed them and now I am alone."

Suddenly bitter, she adds, "The American killed everyone in the village. They killed my friends and other children. I hate them."

She recalls the events of that terrifying day. "Explosions woke me up in the night. I ran to the desert, where I drifted off to sleep again. When I awoke, I ran home and I saw parts of human bodies scattered all around, and heard the cries of survivors," she said.

"I don't remember who told me that my family were all dead dead. At first I didn't believe it, so I went to see if it was really true. Then I saw their bodies, all mixed with blood and dirt. When they took all the martyrs to the graveyard to be buried, I was all alone and neighbors took me to their home. Then my grandmother learned of what happened, and now I am with her."

Now every time a plane passes Zahra cries and throws herself into her grandmother's arms.

"I love my granddaughter," Maryam said. "I see my son in her soul. But when a plane passes overhead, she clings to me so tightly, and her body shakes so much, that I am afraid one day she will die. Then I will lose the last race of my son."

But Maryam may not be able to give Zahra the support that she needs. The older woman seems mentally unstable, constantly murmuring to herself and repeating everything she says many times.

Maryam, though, is resisting attempts by an aid organization to relocate her and her granddaughter to Herat city.

Soraya Pakzad from Neda-e-Zan, an organization that assists Afghan women in trouble, says that they had arranged accommodations for both Zahra and Maryam, but the latter refuses to leave Shindand.

"She does not want to leave the place where her son lived," Pakzad said. "When we showed them the accomodation we had prepared for them, the grandmother tried to get away as soon as possible, saying, 'The government wants to imprison us'."