Just how evil is the Taliban?

This account is from Meena, a 13 year-old Pakistani girl who grew up around the Taliban. While you read this (and it would behoove you to read the entire piece), remember that Barack Obama seeks to pay off the same Taliban with your tax dollars.

From a BBC interview (emphasis mine):

My brother used to tell me that the place for a woman is either at home or in the grave. I was always restricted to home.

He said: “If you leave the house I’ll cut off your head and put it on your chest.”

My brother had been to the local school and beaten the girls and the teachers.

Taliban commanders used to come to our house. There was an underground bunker beside the house, with electricity.

It was concrete and very strong. Cars would drive on top but no-one would realise what was underneath. In that hideout they used to train suicide bombers.

Most were children of my age or younger than me. They were used for these activities because they were too young to know any better.

If U.S. Marines were training Afghani children to be suicide bombers, then I would join with other countries in portraying us as war criminals. But these barbarians get a pass? What kind of no-load, puss-nut asshole uses children to fight for them?

I used to see these children getting on a vehicle to go for their missions. They used loud Islamic CDs to motivate them.

And I would think, “My God, more Muslims are going to be buried”. Then the news would come that more Muslims were wiped out.

The vast majority of Taliban and al Qaeda victims are Muslims, not Westerners.

My brother used to prepare bombs and my sister-in-law did too. He told me that he would teach me this. I told him no. I would not even look at what they were doing.

My father and brother told me to carry out a suicide attack. They were pressuring me to do this.

They told me: “If you do it you will go to paradise long before us.” I replied: “Why don’t you tell me I will go to hell long before you?”

Every day they used to tell me this. Every day. I was very young when they started telling me this. I said to them: “What about all the people I will kill? They are all Muslims.”

They started beating me when I refused. They beat me non-stop. They made my life hell. I never had a single moment of happiness. They did everything other than kill me.

And if she dishonored her family by becoming pregnant (from her father and brother’s ‘punishment’), they could restore their family’s honor by killing her – nonpunishable according to Islamic Shariah law.

They said: “The bomb will be connected with a button, or something like the remote control of a TV. We will give you this kind of remote, and you will go to the place.

“We will also give you a mobile, and we will ring that phone, and press the remote, and you will be blown up with this bomb.”

They told me they would use such a large amount of explosives that no-one would even know if it was a man or a woman.

They told me that I had to do it.

There was a kind of medicine they used to give to the bombers that made them go around smiling, in a trance.

They said they would give me that medicine, and then I would go running to die – with a smile. I was so scared I decided to prepare my own tea, and my own food.

I was afraid they would mix that medicine with my food.

Sister’s story

They attached a bomb to my sister Nahida. They tied rectangular pieces to both her arms, and a black strip was wrapped around both her legs.

Then they connected the whole thing. She told my brother the bomb was heavy and she could not walk.

He said she would be comfortable once she was sitting down in the car.

They gave her medicine. But she was crying very loud for my mother. She kept going to her and hugging her. When my sister looked down at the bomb, she shivered.

Then my brother and my father started beating my mother, and they were shouting: “Why you are distracting the girl from her mission?”

I heard my sister saying: “Where is Meena? I want to see her.” But I didn’t have the strength. My heart couldn’t take it.

My mother fainted when they put her in the car. My brother said my sister’s attack was in Afghanistan.

I always think about my sister. She was healthy and a very nice girl. She was younger than me, but she was wiser. My mother used to tell me that I was an idiot, but she was very wise.

How does one put bombs on their children, and beat them for not wanting to go off to die? What kind of sick f— does something like that?

The Taliban slaughter other people’s children. They turn women into widows. They should be made to suffer too.

I want these Taliban to be burned alive.