The star of the film "Kandahar creates a moving memoir of life,
childhood and friendship as her world collapses around her
Nelofer Pazira was born into a privileged family living in Kabul.
When she was six, the Russians invaded Afghanistan and her
childhood ended. Her father, a respected doctor, was imprisoned
along with family and friends. Their country became a police state
and the centre of a bloody conflict between the Soviet army and the
American-backed guerillas.
Amid the blood and fear of war, Nelofer's refuge from violence and
anger was her friendship with Dyana. Together they shared their
lives, their passion for poetry and the dangers of underground
resistance.
After a decade of war, Nelofer's family escaped across the
mountains to Pakistan and from there to Canada, where she continued
her friendship with Dyana through letters. When her friend suddenly
stopped writing, Nelofer felt bereft. Her return to Afghanistan
under the Taliban and her desperate search for Dyana became the
story of the internationally acclaimed film Kandahar. Her journey
to discover Dyana's tragedy led her finally to Russia, to the
country that destroyed her life, where she found a nation
imprisoned by its own history.
Nuanced, affecting and stunningly written, A Bed of Red Flowers is
a gripping portrait of ordinary life under occupation and an
illuminating window onto the devastation of a country and the
resilience of its people.
"For fear that the Communist government might find evidence that
could be used against my father, my mother decides to burn
everything. In utter anguish she sits on the floor in front of the
stove. The tiny door of the chimney is open, and my
motherrelentlessly feeds the beast of fire my father's books,
albums and papers.
Book burning is a quiet ritual. The only sound is of the papers
crackling and of my mother's sighs. The cherry-red glow of the fire
highlights the lines of tiredness beneath my mother's eyes. I've
never seen her so exhausted or lost. When she opens the door, the
flames run like red water over the white pages, darkening their
words.When we are done, we wash our chimney-hot faces as if what we
had been doing were an ordinary household chore.
--excerpt from A Bed of Red Flowers
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