My name is Zainab, 20 years old, living
with my parents at Qalai Meri
 |
| Qalai Amir Mohammad Khan school where Zainab used to go before the Taliban banned girls from schools/ Faith Reporters |
My name is
Zainab (I would mention my father's name, but it might not be safe
for my family).
I am 20 years old, living with my parents at Qalai Meri Town, Qalai Meri District in Ghazni Province.
I am a former student at the nearby public school Qalai Amir Mohammad Khan.
I was in grade
11, one year away from accomplishing secondary school to start university for
psychology.
This is my story
to the world, how the Taliban stopped me from going to school when they banned
all girls from attending school in August 2021 as soon as they captured power.
I’m seated at
home with broken dreams but still holding onto my frustrated hopes.
Some of my
former fellow young women students are now being given in for marriage, most of
them being forced by their families, after all, there’s nothing they are doing
at home—the Taliban set the destiny of women in the country.
Like many other
young women in Afghanistan, I saw myself as a saviour for my family which is
burdened by the deaths of men in the war and the poverty that came with
increasing widows and orphans of the extended family.
Before
banishment
My former school
Qalai Amir Mohammad Khan is a 20-minute walk from my hometown Qalai Meri.
As usual in
public schools, girls studied from morning to noon, and boys studied from noon
to evening.
Everything in
Afghanistan is built on being male or female and male teachers teach male
students and vice vasa.
There were only
a few ramshackle classrooms where we would all sit in separate grades studying
while some, especially lower grades, could study outside.
We had only two
toilets that were too dirty for girls to use (I don’t want to tell you how
dirty it was but what you should know is that we girls never used those
toilets).
There was no
water at Qalai Amir Mohammad Khan.
This is my country, and this was my school—all my dreams were in those ramshackle
classrooms, the poor teachers and the ravaged nation.
I was not happy
with such a situation and hoped that my generation and I would revamp our
bereaved families and a torn nation.
My parents
always wanted me not to go to school but when I insisted, my father decided to
always accompany me to school whenever he thought it was not safe outside.
A few brave
girls endured the threats to life and the squalor at schools and I’m happy that
I was one of the few who decided to seek an education in such a situation.
The day of
banishment
I remember it
evening when my father came and told me I was no longer allowed to go to
school, that the Taliban had banned girls’ education beyond grade six.
I was doing my
homework; my mother was in bed ill while my young sister was preparing dinner.
I just went to
bed to sleep and did not have dinner.
My young sister
came to comfort me and both of us didn’t have food that night.
After struggling
to study through hardships and insecurity, the Taliban had shuttered my dreams
just like that.
The following
day, I went to school to confirm it myself.
I was not
surprised that I found several other girls on the way going to school.
The gateman
refused us from entering, repeating the bogus announcement of the unyielding
Taliban that girls were no longer allowed to study.
I looked at the
gate guarded by a poor gateman in clothes big on him, holding a stick; I saw my
country was ironically becoming an adversary of my aspiration, ready to let me
fall forever; I cried.
I’m crying even
right now as I’m writing.
We were about 40
and stayed there for about an hour showing our weak dissatisfaction in tears
until the gateman became so rude and aggressive.
Five girls Sabira, Aysha,
Hosey, Fawzia and Asma cried most that we tried to help them calm down.
We returned home
with headaches, dry lips and pale faces.
I have remained
at home because I’m not even allowed to freely go anywhere.
I’m aware that
many of my former fellow students have been married even being forced into
marriage by their relatives.
Some have
sneaked out of the country to pursue their education in Saud Arabia and in the
West which I think is a shame for the Taliban.
My hope for
education is still as firm as it was that I’ll attain education and help my
family contrary to what the Taliban wants us to suffer.
Currently, only
women in health services are allowed to work which is ironic for a group that
does not want women to study.
I am happy for
my fellow young people out there who are not like us in Afghanistan where for
instance, I was born in war studied in war and the so-called end of the war has
forced me out of school.
Related stories:
Afghan Christians: no hope for freedom after 20 years in hiding
At closed school gates, the Taliban plunge Afghans back into dark ages
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