A critical voice even the Taliban listened to

“Of my life's burdens
I am tired

Of my accumulated sins
I am tired

Of the journey whose road is so long
Give me your hand, the one I reach for
I am tired”

Whenever Matiullah Turab recited verses like this, audiences listened spellbound. In the last ten years, Turab became one of Afghanistan's best-known poets. He spoke simply, without embellishment, in a harsh southeastern Pashto dialect that many Afghans didn't fully understand.

That didn't make Turab any less popular. A labourer from an extremely poor household in the predominantly Pashtun east, Turab expressed what many in the country felt. His work appealed to them all: rich and poor, religious and secular, Islamist and nationalist. 

Poetry has a long history in Afghanistan. The country's most famous poets include Rabia Balkhi (10th century), Jalaluddin Rumi (13th century) and the former ruler Ahmad Shah Durrani (18th century), also considered a founding father of modern Afghanistan.

Most of the country’s poetry has been written in Farsi. Even Pashtun rulers such as Durrani and nationalist intellectuals such as the well-known Abdul Hai Habibi, who was active in the mid-20th century, wrote more poetry in Farsi than in Pashto—a result of the country's specific cultural and linguistic blend.

Historically, many Afghans had no single mother tongue, but grew up bilingual or even trilingual. Dost Mohammad Khan (19th Century), another king who once fought against the British, spoke Farsi and Pashto as well as Turkmen

Mohammad Zahir Shah (1914-2007), the last king of Afghanistan, was primarily fluent in Farsi. He hardly understood the language of his Pashtun ancestors and, in any case, did not see why one would write poetry in any language other than that used by Rumi.

Criticism, then applause

Later in Afghanistan's history, poetry found resonance across all political factions. The Afghan communists circulated nationalistic and ostensibly anti-imperialist poetry. The Islamist mujahideen rebels wrote verses about their struggle against the Red Army.

The Taliban became poets too, writing about martyrdom, US bombs and drones, and their time spent in torture complexes like Bagram and Guantanamo. Unsurprisingly, admirers of Matiullah Turab can be found in all of these groups.

In keeping with the Afghan zeitgeist, Turab criticised all sides for their failures, corruption and bloodshed. And yet, he was often invited to recite at the presidential palace by former President Hamid Karzai (in power from 2001 to 2014). He openly criticised the president on stage and was applauded for it. Turab, initially baffled by this response, would experience the same phenomenon years later under the Taliban.

Like many ordinary Afghans, Turab once belonged to the Islamist mujahideen group Hezb-e Islami. Later, he became a consistent critic of the Taliban. Long before their return to power in 2021, Turab made clear his belief that the Taliban had no solution for a country plagued by suffering and destruction.

Turab was never arrested for his criticism of the new (old) rulers. In fact, he was respected. Intellectuals in the diaspora viewed this with suspicion and often accused him of being too close to the Taliban.

The Taliban's admiration of Turab may have had less to do with the content of his poetry than with his delivery, his language and his character. For many, he was just a humble, God-fearing man who spoke the truth. Like his day job, Turab's voice was harsh and steely.

Turab worked for years from his garage in the eastern city of Khost as a blacksmith and artisan. He used words in the same way he struck iron. Turab rarely picked up a pen; he was practically illiterate.

Much of what he recited was stored in his memory. His poetry collections, it is said, were written by other men. Turab's words came directly from the heart and, especially at times like these, will leave a great void.

Always wearing a full beard and a pakol, Turab came from the same social class as many Taliban members. Extremists were more willing to listen to men like Turab than to the privileged, Westernised artists who had been showered with thousands of dollars and were evacuated from Afghanistan at the first opportunity.

This, too, is an Afghan reality that is far too little talked about. It is a reality that, in Afghanistan, may be of critical importance in the coming years. 

Translated from German by Max Graef Lakin.