The path I built myself

I remember that day very well. We had a geography exam. One day before the exam, in the same room where I was always busy studying, I was preparing for the geography exam. I reviewed every single page of the book and the practice questions at the end of each chapter. While I was studying, my mother entered the room. She was carrying a tray of food and said, “Narges jan, you don’t even eat properly because of your studies. I called you several times, but you didn’t come to the table. Your father said I should bring your food to your room.” I said, “Mother, there is only one week left until our exams are over. Tomorrow we also have our geography exam.” With a smile and affection, she said, “Surely, God willing, you will be the top student again this year, with all the effort and hard work you put in yourself.” I said, “Yes, God willing, with your prayers, Mother.” That day, my mother left my room, and I went back to studying without knowing that the next day my life would be divided into two parts: “before that day” and “after that day.” Since fifth grade, I had always ranked first, and my greatest dream was to become a doctor and, in the future, become a successful leader in my community.

The next morning, I woke up early. After having tea, I prepared my school supplies and headed to school. Along the way, I saw many girls like me heading to school with excitement and enthusiasm for the exam. Seeing that scene was very inspiring to me. I had a book in my hand, and while thinking about my lessons, I continued on my way until I entered the school courtyard. But the atmosphere at school that day was completely different. Fear could be seen on everyone’s faces. When I entered our classroom, I saw my classmates hugging each other and crying. Whenever I asked someone, “What happened?” they all gave me only one answer: “We are no longer allowed to study. It has been said that girls above sixth grade are no longer allowed to come to school until further notice.” Hearing that sentence, my whole body began to tremble. I could not hold back my tears. I looked at my books, my classroom, and the faces of my classmates, and I thought to myself: Were the dreams we had worked for years to achieve going to end with a sudden decision? That day, I returned home with the same feeling of being deprived, without even taking the geography exam. When I reached home, I ran to my room, put my school supplies in a corner, and sat down and thought about my future. What were we supposed to endure from then on? Should I stop? Should I give up on the goals and dreams I had? What would my path look like after this? Would I have to stay at home? Thousands of fears and worries about the future made me more and more anxious.

From that day onward, there was no day that passed without bad news. Every day, I heard in the news that many girls and women were facing restrictions and fear for various reasons, from going to educational centers to simply walking in the streets. Day by day, I became more confined within the four walls of my home. My family was also so worried that they would not even allow me to go to a course, even though schools had been closed. I was afraid too; if I went to the course, would I return home again or not? Fear had come so close to our lives that even going somewhere to learn was no longer an ordinary thing.

It was one of those dark nights. We were sitting around the dining cloth with our family when my brother’s phone rang. A few minutes after speaking, he looked at me with a worried face and stood up. We all became concerned. I had a very bad feeling in my heart. He came back, looked at me, and said, “Dear sister, my condolences. The Taliban killed your friend Sharifa, and unfortunately, her body is also at the hospital. One of the neighbors called and gave us the news.” That night, everything became bitter and dark for me. I kept thinking, what was Sharifa’s crime? She only wanted to study. That night passed more slowly than other nights. Sleep did not come to my eyes, and until morning, I cried and thought about a future that was being taken away from me more and more every day.

Truly, during those days, everything seemed to come together to bring me down; it was as if everything was against my continuing. But one day, I sat down with myself and thought carefully. The doors of school had been closed, going to a course could cost me my life, and now I was left within the four walls of my home. I said to myself, “Narges jan, you dreamed of becoming a doctor. You wanted to be a strong leader. A leader must resist for herself and her loved ones even during difficult days. If I cannot change the circumstances today, at least I can decide not to stop.” That day, I promised myself that I must not abandon my path; I had to be strong and continue for my own future, for the thousands of girls deprived of education, and especially for Sharifa, who lost her life simply because she wanted to study.

I went to the same room that I had not entered for studying for a long time, because every time I saw or even came near the door of that room, it reminded me of the day I realized that I could no longer go to school. I opened the door. Everything was still in its place: my books, my daily notes, and my study schedule that I once studied according to every day. I went near the shelf of my books, organized them all, and rewrote my schedule with new study plans. I had a strange feeling that day; my heart was heavy, but I was also happy because I had started again from the beginning. I realized that if the door of school had been closed to me, I would not allow the door of learning to be closed as well.

After that day, I studied outside books and took notes of important materials. I found the eleventh-grade subjects that had been left from my sister’s previous school year, and every day I studied two subjects. I felt good; I had built a school for myself at home, and no one could tell me anymore that I had no right to study. Alongside my studies, I tried to stand by my family during difficult circumstances, especially my father and mother. Before noon, I did embroidery, and in the afternoon, I studied. I used the money I earned from embroidery to meet my own needs; I needed pens and notebooks for studying, and I did not want to always ask my father for money. I had always wanted to stand on my own feet, and later I realized that perhaps my leadership had begun right there, in a small space inside our home.

Two years passed, and every day I tried harder to expand my own educational path and build a stronger connection with the outside world. I decided to start online education. This decision had been part of my plans for a long time, but I needed a phone to begin online lessons. I did hand sewing and embroidery for about a year and a half until I was able to buy a phone with my own money. When I bought the phone, I was very happy because I felt that a new door had opened for me. Finally, I started online education, and every day my learning journey took on a new color. I connected with many girls from across Afghanistan and around the world, and I received new educational materials from them.

Alongside studying, at night, when everyone else was asleep, I wrote; texts and stories about my own experiences and those of thousands of girls like me. Gradually, I got in touch with several publications, and they asked me to send them my stories. When my writings were published, they told me that these stories came from the heart of a society where girls live with restrictions. This encouragement made me continue on my path as a writer. Every night when one of my writings was published, I happily shared the news with my mother, and my mother always encouraged me to continue my path of learning and writing.

Gradually, I began working outside the home secretly. I went to a course near our home and taught English to students for two hours free of charge. There were many restrictions on girls, and many girls secretly attended the course. Every day, the number of students I taught increased until I formed two English-language classes. I taught for free for some time until my teacher said, “Narges jan, because of the effort you are making, we have decided to pay you a fee every month.” I was very happy because, alongside studying and teaching, I could earn an income from my own efforts, and I had a goal for that money: I wanted to create learning opportunities for other women and girls who were eager for education.

After some time, I formed a group called “Owj-e Parwaz” with five of my friends. We started with one hope: education and learning for girls who, like us, had been deprived of education. At first, we started from our own homes. Each of us taught our own mother how to read and write. One day, after my mother was able to write her own name and read a book, she said something that I still remember with pride: “My daughter, by learning to read and write, I feel that my eyes have been opened; it is as if I was not able to see before learning, and now I can truly see and understand life.” That sentence was not just a sentence for me; I understood that sometimes a pen and a notebook can change a person’s life.

Then we decided to establish a special class for women in the mosque in our area. At the beginning, we did not even have a board or chalk. With the money I earned from teaching, I bought pens and notebooks for mothers and girls, and gradually, I was also able to get a board. Today, when I look back at the past five years, I see that these years did not pass simply by waiting. I could have waited for the day when the school doors would open to me again, but during this time, I tried to build a way to continue using the small resources I had. Today, not only does my own educational journey continue, but many women and girls have also been able to learn things from me, and I have learned many things from them as well.

The five years were not easy; there was deprivation, fear, violence, the lack of stable internet, and sometimes words from society that were very difficult for me to process. But every time I felt tired, I thought of that little girl who once walked toward school excitedly with a book in her hand and dreamed of becoming a doctor. I have still not reached all my goals. Perhaps I still have a long way to go, but I have not given up on my goals. Perhaps I could not change everything, but I was able to decide not to stop.

During these five years, I resisted ignorance and injustice with my pen, with my books, and through education. If the doors of school are closed to us today, we have found other doors to learning. Perhaps the path I have chosen is long, but I am no longer afraid of its length. Because during these years, I have learned that resistance does not always begin with great things; sometimes it begins with a girl in a small room, with opening a book again, writing a study plan, buying a pen with the money you have earned through your own hard work, and teaching another person. I am still on my path, I still have dreams, and I still want to continue; until the day when no girl is afraid to open a book and no mother has to wait for someone’s permission to learn how to read and write. Perhaps the path is long, but I am no longer afraid of long paths; because I have learned that continuing itself is a victory.