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(This article is based on a phone conversation with an Afghan woman based in Kabul. The Quint will be publishing many such oppressed voices of women from Afghanistan. Write to us at hope@thequint.com.)
"Rizwana teacher, Rizwana teacher, Rizwana teacher!"
It has been one month since I entered my school campus in Afghanistan's Herat. No matter how much effort I put in, I cannot stop thinking about my girl students, thousands of other students, who are missing the opportunity to be educated – all because we are living in constant fear under the Taliban.
At 24, I started teaching students of primary schools. For two years, I witnessed joy in classrooms, of girls bubbling and bantering, getting excited about learning. I spoke to parents who were excited, dreamed of a future beyond marriage for their daughters. I convinced some parents to let their girls pursue higher education. There was hope, there was life.
Everything has vanished into thin air and I, like every other Afghan woman, feel hopeless.
I was just a year old when the Taliban left. I have no personal memories. But not a day went by, without someone remembering the horrors of the regime. Women in my family did not step out without a male member, so many cousins of mine lost the opportunity to study. There was no form of entertainment – no music, no dance, no cinema, one could not even step out for a meal.
With my parents' encouragement, I became the first graduate in my family. I am also the first woman to step out for work. I was the first person in my family to take a flight, for a training programme in the US.
And just like that, the years of progress now mean nothing.
I keep seeing in the news that the Taliban is now 'moderate', and they will 'allow' women to function under the Islamic laws. But I don't believe this. It is precisely because of this that I haven't stepped into the school yet, even as some have opened.
As I watch the news relentlessly, I wonder what is going to happen to these girls. My little girls who want to become doctors and astronauts, computer engineers and journalists. My heart aches for them.
I wonder what I will tell them? How will I encourage them to follow their dreams?
Then, I remind myself that the Taliban can take away everything, but they cannot take away education from the already educated.
I will not lose hope. I dream of an Afghanistan where women would be allowed to read freely, take up employment. I dream of an Afghanistan where women do not have to fear going to universities and schools. I dream of an Afghanistan where young women can live freely, and think freely. And there are many, many, many, women who dare to dream like me, for ourselves and for the future.
(As told to Mythreyee Ramesh)
(All 'My Report' branded stories are submitted by citizen journalists to The Quint. Though The Quint inquires into the claims/allegations from all parties before publishing, the report and the views expressed above are the citizen journalist's own. The Quint neither endorses, nor is responsible for the same.)
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