KABUL — When Fariba Mohebi, an 11th grader, learned in September that most Afghan girls would not join boys returning to school under Taliban rule, she shut the door and windows to her room. She broke down and cried.
From her despair, a poem emerged: “Why Was I Born a Girl?”
“I wish I was a boy because being a girl has no value,” Fariba wrote. Afghan men “shout and scream: Why should a girl study? Why should a girl do work? Why should a girl live free?”
Fariba’s poem found its way to Timothy Stiven’s A.P. Canyon Crest Academy, a public highschool 8,000 miles away in San Diego, hosted the history class. It was relayed via Zoom calls between Canyon Crest and Mawoud, a tutoring center Fariba now attends in Kabul, where girls sit in class with boys and men teach girls — testing the limits of Taliban forbearance.
Periodic Zoom sessions between American and Afghan students have opened a door to the world for Mawoud girls. They have strengthened their resolve to continue their educations despite the odds. The calls have also exposed the harsh contours Taliban rule for California students, opening their eyes towards the oppression of fellow high schoolers halfway across the globe.
“If I was a 10th as courageous as these girls are, I would be a lion. They are my heroes,” Diana Reid, a Canyon Crest student, wrote after a Zoom call this month in which Afghan girls described navigating bombing threats and Taliban interference.
The Zoom sessions were a novelty for the Afghans and a reminder that Americans still care about Afghans five years after U.S troops left in chaos and the American-backed government collapsed.
“We are so happy we are not alone in this world,” Najibullah Yousefi, Mawoud’s principal, told the San Diego students via Zoom. “There are some beautiful minds on the other side of the world who are concerned about us.”
Mr. Stiven, and Mr. Yousefi arranged the Zoom calls in April. An early topic of discussion was Fariba’s poetry, translated by Emily Khossravia, a Canyon Crest student, and published in the school magazine. “Why Was I Born a Girl” prompted an in-depth education in Afghan realities for the American students.
The class has learned that Afghan students risk their lives just by walking through the tutoring center’s fortified gates. Mawoud’s previous location was leveled by a suicide bombing that killed 40 students in 2018. The school’s new building, tucked into a tight bend in a narrow alleyway, is protected by armed guards, high walls and concertina wire.
Most of Mawoud’s 300 students are Hazara, a predominately Shiite Muslim minority ruthlessly attacked by the Islamic State in Afghanistan, ISIS-K. Hazara schools, protests, mosques, a New Year’s celebration and even a wrestling club have been bombed by ISIS-K since 2016, killing hundreds.
Two Shiite Muslim Mosques attended by Hazaras were targeted in an attack on October 7, killing more than 90 people. ISIS considers Hazaras apostates.
Many Hazara-operated commuter minibuses were bombed in West Kabul’s Dasht-e-Barchi, after the Taliban takeover. The Afghan Analysts Network reported that at least 11 people were killed, and up to 18 others were wounded, most of which were Hazaras.
The Taliban, who in the past persecuted Hazaras, are now responsible. The analysts’ independent research agency described the Taliban government response as tepid, saying it downplayed the strength of ISIS-K, which claimed responsibility for most of the attacks. Afghan media reported on Jan. 14 that Zainab Abdullahi (a young Hazara woman) was killed and shot at a Taliban checkpoint, just five minutes from Mawoud center.
The San Diego students have learned, too, that attending class is a leap of faith for Fariba and her female classmates, who make up 70 percent of Mawoud’s student body.
Mawoud prepares students for Afghanistan’s rigorous university entrance exams. But there is no guarantee that girls will be permitted to take the annual exams — or to return to high school, attend a university, or pursue a career in a country where the Taliban have begun erasing most women from public life.
Taliban officials have stated that they hope older girls will be able to return to school and universities by March, according Islamic guidelines. Except for a few schools in northern Afghanistan that are open to sixth-graders, most Afghan girls have not been to school since August.
Mr. Yousefi stated that the Taliban officials who visited his tutoring center didn’t set any rules, like they did at some public schools. He said they have merely stressed adherence to “Islamic values,” interpreted as separating boys and girls and requiring girls to cover their hair and faces.
When Mr. Yousefi told the Talibs that a nationwide teacher shortage made it nearly impossible to segregate classes by gender, “They did not have any logical reply for me,” he said.
For the American students, the Mawoud girls’ accounts of perseverance — delivered in near-fluent English — have been both sobering and inspiring.
“I can hardly imagine how difficult that must be, and the courage the girls must have to be sitting alongside male students after facing suicide bombings,” Selena Xiang, a Canyon Crest student, wrote after this month’s Zoom call. “It’s so different from my life, where education is handed to me on a silver platter.”
Alice Lin, another student, wrote: “They are stronger, more determined, more steadfast in belief than I have ever been, and I cannot help but think: What if the Mawoud girls had been given my life?”
And Ms. Reid said she was struck by something one of the Mawoud students said over Zoom: “Knowledge is powerful — and the Taliban knows it. That’s why they keep it from us.”
Fariba, 16, the poet, said of the San Diego students: “They have motivated us to achieve our goals — and for me, my goals are very big.” She said she wanted to become a famous poet and a cancer researcher.
Zalma Nabizada, another Mawoud student, said, “I lost my motivation and was in darkness after the Taliban came.” But she said that the Zoom sessions had helped nudge her to keep trying to achieve. She wants to become, she said, “a star that shines.”
A sign, in English, hangs in a hallway at Mawoud: “Dreams Don’t Work Unless You Do.”
Mawoud was home to 3,000 students before suicide bombers killed Mawoud students in 2018 and at a nearby tutoring centre attended by Hazaras, in 2020. Since the bombings and the Taliban takeover, the size of Mawoud’s student body has dropped by about 90 percent, the principal said.
Some Mawoud students fled their families to Pakistan and Iran with their families. Others have stayed behind, fearful of Taliban harassment and bombings. Fariba stated that she spent many weeks convincing her parents to let Fariba attend the center.
The center’s guards turned to hunting rifles after the Taliban refused to let them carry assault rifles, Mr. Yousefi said. To avoid being a mass target, the principal directs students to travel in small groups when they walk to and fro the center.
A recent snowy morning saw the Zoom session frequently interrupted by technical issues, but each re-established connection was met with cheers from both classes.
A Mawoud girl asked the question: How do you deal with loneliness? Sona Amiri, a Mawoud girl, showed her soccer medals. Then she said that the Taliban had taken over soccer.
Another Mawoud student showed his oil paintings and then told the San Diego students about the Taliban’s crackdown on artists. He said that they have forced them to draw, paint, and perform in secret.
Other Mawoud students described dreams of graduating from high school and university, and of pursuing careers as doctors, journalists, lawyers, poets — and for one girl, as Afghanistan’s ambassador to the United States.
They also spoke out about not backing down. “This bad situation can make a person more powerful,” Ms. Amiri, the soccer player, told the American students.
Aaron Combs, a Canyon Crest 10th grader, responded moments later, “The fact that every one of you guys are brave enough to speak up for yourselves is incredibly inspiring.”
Fariba, the poet, stated that the sessions with American students lifted her spirits for at least a short time. But for her, a heartwarming Zoom discussion can’t soften the daily indignities and terrors endured by a young Hazara woman in Afghanistan.
“We prepare ourselves mentally for the worst,” Fariba said just after the Zoom screen had gone dark. “It’s terrible to say, but that’s our reality.”
Safiullah Padshah contributed reporting from Kabul, Afghanistan.
Source: NY Times
