Woman's horror after discovering family had been placed on 'kill' list over dad's job

Still reeling from their daring escape from , a group of refugee women meet once a week in their new British hometown to reminisce about the old days - and share their fears for the future.

The Chit Chat & Chai ladies were forced to flee when the Taliban took back control of the country in August 2021, as Western forces withdrew. Some, like 29-year-old Mahjabin and her mother Rabia, 57, had to creep from safe house to safe house until they reached the Pakistan border and were able to get to safety, all the while knowing they would be slaughtered if they were caught. Mahjabin’s father had worked with the British Army as a guard so all of their

Having settled in their new Woking home, quietly spoken Mahjabin - who had graduated with an economics degree in Kabul - reveals the terror that ran through her family when it became clear the fanatical Islamists were about to overrun the capital. "We weren't allowed to tell any of our friends or neighbours that we were leaving," she says. "We couldn't take anything with us - just the few possessions we could carry."

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Rabia, who has a son and another daughter, is old enough to remember the first Taliban regime in the 1980s. “They would shoot you in the street,” she recalls quietly. “Women were not allowed to show their face in public. There was no protection for us.” The new government, she believes, is more cautious about enacting the same brutality now the eyes of the international community are upon Afghanistan. “They are paranoid about using the British and American equipment that was left behind,” she believes. “They don’t know if it is being monitored or not.”

When the Taliban were closing in on Kabul and it became obvious they would be victorious, Rabia’s family were forced into hiding.

She had a panic attack when it came time to leave their beloved home. “I had no courage,” she says. They had to wait for an email from the British government giving them safe passage from Pakistan to the UK, and after 15 long, terrifying days listening to gunshots and screams outside, it finally arrived.

Taking the few things they could carry, they couldn’t utter a word to long-standing neighbours or friends, knowing the Taliban would be keeping tabs on them.

After making the arduous journey to the border with Pakistan, Rabia and Mahjabin both wept as they crossed to safety. “We couldn’t believe it was happening. We were heartbroken, but also happy,” says Mahjabin. “We couldn’t believe this is the way we would leave our own home. We never believed it would be this extreme, that we would have to leave behind everything we knew.”

Farkat, 35, has two children who escaped with her. Her son remains behind and is interrogated daily. “I have sleepless nights, I wish he comes here soon,” she says.

Taliban agents keep tabs on him and Farhat believes the phone lines are not safe so they can’t speak freely. Her brother had a successful jewellery business that was also targeted. “The Taliban went to visit him and they beat him up badly a few times, asking, ‘where is your sister and her husband? Why have they left?’” she says.

“He’s lost his business now, he’s lost everything. He can’t do anything now because they’re looking for him.” Even children are not safe from the violence meted out: her young nephew was recently caught in the street wearing jeans. "The Talibs caught him and dunked him in raw sewage to teach him a lesson.

Afterwards, they said, ‘Are you going to do this again?’ People are only allowed to wear traditional clothes now, and they’re beaten if they’re caught in Western clothing.” Her brother ran a successful jewellery business that he has had to close after being seized by Taliban officials and interrogated about Farhat and her husband’s location.

Since taking back Afghanistan, the Taliban government has passed a series of laws severely restricting the rights of women living under its cruel rule, including banning them from speaking in public, singing or even laughing outside of their homes. Punishments are cruel and swift - and the most serious transgressions, reserved for women accused of adultery, are punished with death by stoning.

Girls are no longer allowed to go to school and all females are prohibited from even looking at men they are not related to. Most of the Chit Chat & Chai ladies have daughters, and were petrified the Taliban would forcibly marry them. “They would go house to house and see what girl they liked,” says Malika, 45, who has four sons and two daughters, one of which is still in Afghanistan. “Even girls as young as seven.

And if the parents don’t accept, they’ll kill the girl in front of her family. So there is no choice.” Talib fighters might already have four or fives wives, but that doesn’t stop them from adding more to their harem. “They don’t care if you’re married, if you have children, if you’re pregnant. If they like you, they will force you to marry them,” says Farhat.

Life now looks bleak for the 14 million women and girls left in Afghanistan. For young women like Mahjabin, now barred from education and work, there is little to do except hope their parents marry them to a kind man. “Everyone has depression there,” she says. “All the women have depression because they can’t work and they’re stuck at home. They’re in prison at home.” With widespread poverty and a vast unemployment rate, hunger is becoming more common. “Some women cannot feed their children let alone themselves,” says Malika.

“They are suicidal and some pour petrol on themselves and light themselves on fire. They die, painfully and slowly, because they see no other option.”

Bibi’s situation became desperate when the Taliban returned and enforced a blanket ban on women leaving their homes without a male chaperone. Bibi, whose interpreter husband was killed by the Taliban eight years ago when they blew up his car with explosives, was left with two daughters and a six-month-old son. “I had to become the man of the house,” she says. Her brother, who has resettled in the UK with her, stepped in to act as chaperone so Bibi and her children could survive.

All the women who gather together each week inside Woking’s Phoenix Cultural Centre know how lucky they are to have escaped. Meetings like theirs are now strictly forbidden in their home country, and even now the long tendrils of the Taliban’s terror brush over them.

“We are so terrified for the people we left there but we can’t see ourselves going back,” says Rabia, who tries not to think too much of home. “The only way you can survive is to be away from the Taliban and to get out of the country.” Her daughter, the economics graduate Mahjabin, is looking forward to learning English and, hopefully, finding a job here. “I would like to work in administration,” she says shyly. “I would love to give back to the community in Woking.” She also plans to see more of the UK, especially London, when she can - the first hotel she stayed in when she arrived overlooked Big Ben.

The biggest culture shock since resettling has been the British ‘live and let live’ creed, all the women say. “People respect each other’s choices, however they want to live, whatever they want to believe in. There’s an opportunity for everyone,” says Farhat.

Pizza has also been a surprising hit among the group. The British has taken a little more getting used to, but Malika prefers it to the heat of Afghanistan. “There’s a saying in my culture that rain is good luck, so this must be a very lucky country!” she laughs.