KABUL, Feb 16, 2022 (BSS/AFP) - One after the other, quickly, carefully,
keeping their heads down, a group of Afghan women step into a small Kabul
apartment block -- risking their lives as a nascent resistance against the
Taliban.

   They come together to plan their next stand against the hardline Islamist
regime, which took back power in Afghanistan in August and stripped them of
their dreams.

   At first, there were no more than 15 activists in this group, mostly women
in their 20s who already knew each other.

   Now there is a network of dozens of women -- once students, teachers or
NGO workers, as well as housewives -- that have worked in secret to organise
protests over the past six months.

   "I asked myself why not join them instead of staying at home, depressed,
thinking of all that we lost," a 20-year-old protester, who asked not to be
named, tells AFP.

   They know such a challenge to the new authorities may cost them
everything.

   Four of their colleagues were recently seized for weeks, until the UN
confirmed their release on Sunday.

   When the Taliban first ruled Afghanistan between 1996 and 2001, they
became notorious for human rights abuses, with women mostly confined to their
homes.

   Now back in government and despite promising a softer rule, they are
cracking down on women's freedoms once again.

   There is enforced segregation in most workplaces, leading many employers
to fire female staff, and women are barred from key public sector jobs.

   Many girls' secondary schools have closed, and university curriculums are
being revised to reflect their hardline interpretation of Islam.

   Haunted by memories of the last Taliban regime, some Afghan women are too
frightened to venture out or are pressured by their families to remain at
home.

   For mother-of-four Shala, who asked AFP to only use her first name, a
return to such female confinement is her biggest fear.

   A former government employee, her job has already been taken from her, so
now she helps organise the resistance and sometimes sneaks out at night to
paint graffiti slogans such as "Long Live Equality" across the walls of the
nation's capital.

   "I just want to be an example for young women, to show them that I will
not give up the fight," she explains.

   The Taliban could harm her family, but Shala says her husband supports
what she is doing and her children are learning from her defiance -- at home
they practise chants demanding education.

   - 'Fear can't control me' -

   AFP journalists attended two of the group's gatherings in January.

   Despite the risk of being arrested and taken by the Taliban, or shunned by
their families and society more than 40 women came to one event.

   At another meeting, a few women were fervently preparing for their next
protest.

   One activist designed a banner demanding justice, a cellphone in one hand
and her pen in the other.

   "These are our only weapons," she says.

   A 24-year-old, who asked not to be named, helped brainstorm ideas for
attracting the world's attention.

   "It's dangerous but we have no other way. We have to accept that our path
is fraught with challenges," she insists.

   Like others, she stood up to her conservative family, including an uncle
who threw away her books to keep her from learning.

   "I don't want to let fear control me and prevent me from speaking and
telling the truth," she insists.

   Allowing people to join their ranks is a meticulous process.

   Hoda Khamosh, a published poet and former NGO worker who organised
workshops to help empower women, is tasked with ensuring newcomers can be
trusted.

   One test she sets is to ask them to prepare banners or slogans at short
notice -- she can sense passion for the cause from women who deliver quickly.

   Other tests yield even clearer results.

   Hoda recounts the time they gave a potential activist a fake date and time
for a demonstration.

   The Taliban turned up ahead of the supposed protest, and all contact was
cut with the woman suspected of tipping off officials.

   A core group of the activists use a dedicated phone number to coordinate
on the day of a protest. That number is later disconnected to ensure it is
not being tracked.

   "We usually carry an extra scarf or an extra dress. When the demonstration
is over, we change our clothes so we cannot be recognised," Hoda explains.

   She has changed her phone number several times and her husband has
received threats.

   "We could still be harmed, it's exhausting. But all we can do is
persevere," she adds.

   The activist was one of a few women flown to Norway to meet face to face
with the Taliban's leadership last month, alongside other civil society
members, when the first talks on European soil were held between the West and
Afghanistan's new government.

      - Crackdown on dissent -

   In the 20 years since the Taliban last held power, a generation of women -
- largely in major cities -- became business owners, studied PHDs, and held
government positions.

   The battle to defend those gains requires defiance.

   On protest days, women turn up in twos or threes, waiting outside shops as
if they are ordinary shoppers, then at the last minute rush together: some 20
people chanting as they unfurl their banners.

   Swiftly, and inevitably, the Taliban's armed fighters surround them --
sometimes holding them back, other times screaming and pointing guns to scare
the women away.

   One activist recalls slapping a fighter in the face, while another led
protest chants despite a masked gunman pointing his weapon at her.

   But it is becoming increasingly dangerous to protest as authorities crack
down on dissent.

   A few days after the planning meeting attended by AFP, Taliban fighters
used pepper spray on the resistance demonstrators for the first time, angry
as the group had painted a white burqa red to reject wearing the all-covering
dress.

   Two of the women who took part in the protests -- Tamana Zaryabi Paryani
and Parwana Ibrahimkhel -- were later rounded up in a series of night raids
on January 19.

   Shortly before she was taken, footage of Paryani was shared on social
media showing her in distress, warning of Taliban fighters at her door.

   In the video, Tamana calls out: "Kindly help! Taliban have come to our
home in Parwan 2. My sisters are at home."

   It shows her telling the men behind the door: "If you want to talk, we'll
talk tomorrow. I cannot meet you in the night with these girls. I don't want
to (open the door)... Please! Help, help!"

   Several women interviewed by AFP before the raids, who spoke of "non-stop
threats", later went into hiding.

   The UN also demanded information about two more female activists allegedly
detained two weeks ago, named by rights advocates as Zahra Mohammadi and
Mursal Ayar.

   Taliban government spokesman Zabihullah Mujahid denied any women were
being held, but said authorities had the right "to arrest and detain
dissidents or those who break the law", after the government banned
unsanctioned protests soon after coming to power.

   On Sunday the UN said all four women were released after being held by the
"de facto authorities" of Afghanistan.

   - Starting from scratch -

   The women are learning to adapt quickly.

   When they began the movement last September, demonstrations would end as
soon as one of the participants was pushed or threatened by the Taliban.

   Hoda says they have now developed a system where two activists take care
of the victim, allowing the others -- and the protest -- to continue.

   As the Taliban prevents media coverage of protests, many of the female
activists use their phones to take photos and videos to post on social media.

   The content, often featuring them defiantly showing their faces, can then
reach an international audience.

   "These women... had to create something from scratch," says Heather Barr
of Human Rights Watch.

   "There are a lot of very experienced women activists who have been working
in Afghanistan for many years... but almost all of them left after August
15," she adds.

   "(The Taliban) don't tolerate dissent. They have beaten other protesters,
they have beaten journalists who cover the protests, very brutally. They've
gone and looked for protesters and protest organisers afterwards."

   Barr believes it is "almost certain" those involved with this new
resistance will experience harm.

   A separate, smaller women's group is now trying to focus on protest that
avoids direct confrontation with the Taliban.

   "When I am out on the streets my heart and body shake," said Wahida Amiri.

   The 33-year-old used to work as a librarian. Sharp and articulate, she is
used to fighting for justice having previously campaigned against corruption
in the previous government.

   Now that is no longer possible, she sometimes meets a small circle of
friends in the safety of their homes, where they film themselves holding
candlelit vigils and raising banners demanding the right to education and
work.

   They write articles and attend debates on audio apps Clubhouse or Twitter,
hoping social media will show the world their story.

   "I have never worked as hard as I have in the past five months," she says.

   Hoda's biggest dream was to be Afghanistan's president, and it is
difficult for her to accept that her political work is now limited.

   "If we do not fight for our future today, Afghan history will repeat
itself," the 26-year-old told AFP from her home.

   "If we do not get our rights we will end up stuck at home, between four
walls. This is something we cannot tolerate," she said.

   Kabul's resistance is not alone. There have been small, scattered protests
by women in other Afghan cities, including Bamiyan, Herat and Mazar-i-Sharif.

   "(The Taliban) have erased us from society and politics," Amiri says.

   "We may not succeed. All we want is to keep the voice of justice raised
high, and instead of five women, we want thousands to join us."