Ms. Marry Nabard Aaeen

KABUL, Afghanistan -- In the mornings, Marry Nabard Aaeen sits in a dim room with fellow female reporters, separated from the male journalists of the government-run Bakhtar news agency by a heavy curtain and a closed door.

She's relegated to "women's articles" on health, food, culture and children.

In the afternoons, Aaeen sits in a different room with other female reporters, but she's in charge.In this room, she's the editor of Seerat, which calls itself Afghanistan's first independent weekly newspaper run by women for women.The room is the size of a storage closet--actually, it is a storage closet.In its tiny confines, Aaeen directs coverage of women's interest stories, but she also sends her reporters out to cover the "men's turf" of Afghanistan: politics, drugs, government, crime and controversial social issues.

In mid-December, barely a month after the fall of the Taliban here in Kabul, the capital, Aaeen and four other women created Seerat as a one-page weekly.Late last month, Seerat published its 13th issue, a comparatively fat edition with four printed pages and a publication run of 1,000.

The women launched Seerat after getting back their old jobs at Bakhtar, which the Taliban had taken away in the mid-1990s.Although they were gratified to have their jobs back, the women said, they felt constrained by their second-class status at the male-dominated news agency.

At Bakhtar, the women rarely are permitted to venture out on assignments, and the men, seen as the breadwinners, end up with bigger paychecks because they're allowed to work longer hours.
...
"It's still hard to attract readers because their curiosity, their intelligence, has been worn away by all the years under the Taliban," said Aaeen, a 38-year-old who favors long, stylish dresses that cover her arms and legs but are a far cry from the burkas that the Taliban forced women to wear in public.

Seerat has attitude.Aaeen recently wrote a blistering editorial demanding that women stop sitting in the back of buses and taxicabs or, in some cases, in open taxi trunks.Another article pointed out that administrations before the Taliban provided day care for female government employees, while the new government does not.

Some interviews are tough.Afghans whose family members were killed during the U.S.-led campaign that drove the Taliban from Kabul angrily chased the Seerat reporters from their homes a few weeks ago, the women said.

Riding the bus last week, Aaeen struck up a conversation with a woman who mentioned that her daughter, a newlywed, was killed in a U.S. airstrike last fall.The woman pulled out her daughter's photo and began weeping.

Aaeen asked the woman to lend her the photo and to meet her for an interview.The woman refused, saying her husband would never give her permission.

"We have a long way to go before Afghanistan is a modern country," Aaeen said."That's what Seerat is trying to achieve.We want the women of Afghanistan to be more modern, more educated, more in control of their lives."

Though Seerat promotes what Aaeen calls "progressive ideas," she said it also seeks to inform and entertain women."Their lives have been terrible not just under the Taliban, but under 23 years of war," she said.

...
Aaeen despised the burka.She said she ripped it off Nov. 13, the day the Taliban began fleeing Kabul.Aaeen, a mother of four, taught an illegal girls school in her home during the Taliban era.

In the Seerat office, a blue burka lies on a mattress on the floor.
...
At Seerat, they said, Aaeen is paid $150 a month as editor, and her reporters earn $100 to $150.

As a commentary on a government that rarely pays its employees, Seerat ran a cartoon showing a worker shouting down at a penniless colleague who had just died and was being buried: "Get up!The government's going to start paying salaries any day now!"

The paper also ran an anti-burka cartoon about a little boy and his female teacher.It defies translation, but the punch line refers to "big blue tents."The reporters said it was a hit with female readers.
...
For an upcoming issue, Aaeen said, she's working on a new expose: why the new government, even with the Taliban gone, still refuses to play the music of female singers and musicians on government-run TV and radio.

"That's an inequity that really makes me angry," Aaeen said.She thought for a moment, then added, "But we're not sacrificing news coverage to run this story.If a hot story is breaking, you can be sure we'll be right on it." If you want other stories on this topic, search the Archives at latimes.com/archives.Click here for article licensing and reprint options

a d v e r t i s e m e n t

An Independent Woman : Calling her one of "Afghanistan's Female Pioneers in Print," the Los Angeles Times reported the story of Marry Nabard Aaeen, a female journalist "relegated to ‘women's articles'" at the Bakhtar news agency.But when she leaves the agency, Ms. Aaeen takes on a different life as editor of Seerat, "Afghanistan's first weekly newspaper run by women for women."

KABUL, Afghanistan -- In the mornings, Marry Nabard Aaeen sits in a dim room with fellow female reporters, separated from the male journalists of the government-run Bakhtar news agency by a heavy curtain and a closed door.

She's relegated to "women's articles" on health, food, culture and children.

In the afternoons, Aaeen sits in a different room with other female reporters, but she's in charge.In this room, she's the editor of Seerat, which calls itself Afghanistan's first independent weekly newspaper run by women for women.

The room is the size of a storage closet--actually, it is a storage closet.In its tiny confines, Aaeen directs coverage of women's interest stories, but she also sends her reporters out to cover the "men's turf" of Afghanistan: politics, drugs, government, crime and controversial social issues.

In mid-December, barely a month after the fall of the Taliban here in Kabul, the capital, Aaeen and four other women created Seerat as a one-page weekly.
...
"It's still hard to attract readers because their curiosity, their intelligence, has been worn away by all the years under the Taliban," said Aaeen, a 38-year-old who favors long, stylish dresses that cover her arms and legs but are a far cry from the burkas that the Taliban forced women to wear in public.

Seerat has attitude.Aaeen recently wrote a blistering editorial demanding that women stop sitting in the back of buses and taxicabs or, in some cases, in open taxi trunks.Another article pointed out that administrations before the Taliban provided day care for female government employees, while the new government does not.

Some interviews are tough.Afghans whose family members were killed during the U.S.-led campaign that drove the Taliban from Kabul angrily chased the Seerat reporters from their homes a few weeks ago, the women said.

Riding the bus last week, Aaeen struck up a conversation with a woman who mentioned that her daughter, a newlywed, was killed in a U.S. airstrike last fall.The woman pulled out her daughter's photo and began weeping.

Aaeen asked the woman to lend her the photo and to meet her for an interview.The woman refused, saying her husband would never give her permission.

"We have a long way to go before Afghanistan is a modern country," Aaeen said.
...
Aaeen despised the burka.She said she ripped it off Nov. 13, the day the Taliban began fleeing Kabul.Aaeen, a mother of four, taught an illegal girls school in her home during the Taliban era.

In the Seerat office, a blue burka lies on a mattress on the floor.
...
At Seerat, they said, Aaeen is paid $150 a month as editor, and her reporters earn $100 to $150.
...
For an upcoming issue, Aaeen said, she's working on a new expose: why the new government, even with the Taliban gone, still refuses to play the music of female singers and musicians on government-run TV and radio.

"That's an inequity that really makes me angry," Aaeen said.She thought for a moment, then added, "But we're not sacrificing news coverage to run this story.

KABUL, Afghanistan -- In the mornings, Marry Nabard Aaeen sits in a dim room with fellow female reporters, separated from the male journalists of the government-run Bakhtar news agency by a heavy curtain and a closed door.

She's relegated to "women's articles" on health, food, culture and children.

In the afternoons, Aaeen sits in a different room with other female reporters, but she's in charge.In this room, she's the editor of Seerat, which calls itself Afghanistan's first independent weekly newspaper run by women for women.

The room is the size of a storage closet--actually, it is a storage closet.In its tiny confines, Aaeen directs coverage of women's interest stories, but she also sends her reporters out to cover the "men's turf" of Afghanistan: politics, drugs, government, crime and controversial social issues.

In mid-December, barely a month after the fall of the Taliban here in Kabul, the capital, Aaeen and four other women created Seerat as a one-page weekly.
...
"It's still hard to attract readers because their curiosity, their intelligence, has been worn away by all the years under the Taliban," said Aaeen, a 38-year-old who favors long, stylish dresses that cover her arms and legs but are a far cry from the burkas that the Taliban forced women to wear in public.

Seerat has attitude.Aaeen recently wrote a blistering editorial demanding that women stop sitting in the back of buses and taxicabs or, in some cases, in open taxi trunks.Another article pointed out that administrations before the Taliban provided day care for female government employees, while the new government does not.

Some interviews are tough.Afghans whose family members were killed during the U.S.-led campaign that drove the Taliban from Kabul angrily chased the Seerat reporters from their homes a few weeks ago, the women said.

Riding the bus last week, Aaeen struck up a conversation with a woman who mentioned that her daughter, a newlywed, was killed in a U.S. airstrike last fall.The woman pulled out her daughter's photo and began weeping.

Aaeen asked the woman to lend her the photo and to meet her for an interview.The woman refused, saying her husband would never give her permission.

"We have a long way to go before Afghanistan is a modern country," Aaeen said.
...
Aaeen despised the burka.She said she ripped it off Nov. 13, the day the Taliban began fleeing Kabul.Aaeen, a mother of four, taught an illegal girls school in her home during the Taliban era.

In the Seerat office, a blue burka lies on a mattress on the floor.
...
At Seerat, they said, Aaeen is paid $150 a month as editor, and her reporters earn $100 to $150.
...
For an upcoming issue, Aaeen said, she's working on a new expose: why the new government, even with the Taliban gone, still refuses to play the music of female singers and musicians on government-run TV and radio.

"That's an inequity that really makes me angry," Aaeen said.She thought for a moment, then added, "But we're not sacrificing news coverage to run this story.