By Azada*
Fatima Amiri tells her story:
One day before the terrorist attack on the Kaaj education centre on September 30, 2022, our class had a Quran recitation ceremony to commemorate the anniversary of the attack on Mawood educational centre. It was there, we were informed that the Ministry of Higher Education would hold university entrance exams for female students. We all prayed to be accepted in the field of our choice.
That day, I went to have my biometrics registered with Asma and Hangama, friends who would die in the Kaaj attack. I never thought that would be our last meeting as we’d promised to meet the next day at the Kaaj centre, where a mock test was to be held.
I was very anxious, thinking about the test, though I’d studied well. I told myself that I would get the highest score in the mock test.
After the morning prayer, I arrived at the Kaaj educational centre, entering first with its director. I asked the director to give me the exam paper so that I could start working on it earlier than the others. Sitting alone in a corner of the classroom, I started solving the questions. The others arrived a few at a time and soon the hall was filled with students. Everyone was busy writing the exam.
Soon, I heard gunshots. It was nothing new. I hear it every day. I continued writing my exam. But the sound got louder and louder. Then, students started screaming. I stopped to see what happened while also reassuring the students around me that there was nothing to be worried about, and that they should be calm.
Suddenly, I noticed a young neatly dressed man had entered the hall with a gun in his hand. He started shooting at the students. Several people died in front of my eyes. The screams and shouts of the students were so loud that I could not hear the sound of his gun but could only see the smoke coming out of its barrel. I hid under a chair. Less than a minute later, an explosion shook the whole hall. The moans and screams of the students were mixed with the sound of the blast. It smelled like blood. I opened my eyes to see what happened, but I couldn’t. Everything was dark. I thought I was no longer alive.
When I tried again to open my eyes, I had sight only in my right eye; my left was blind. I couldn’t believe that my friends and classmates were torn to pieces, rolling in their own blood and dying in front of my eyes. It was an unbearable moment.
I don’t understand how I reached the side exit gate of Kaaj educational centre. It was closed. I climbed up the wall, crossed the barbed wire, and threw myself over to the other side. Others were escaping the same way. I entered the back alley of the centre with my head and face covered in blood, my clothing burnt and torn. I shouted for someone to help me as I ran away, but all the passers-by were looking at me in shock. I went to the nearest pharmacy. My left eye was hurting badly, and blood was still running down my face. I begged them for painkillers, but they panicked and did not help. I called my father and informed him about my condition.
I lost my left eye and hearing in one ear in the attack on the Kaaj education centre. The pain in my eyes and stomach kept bothering me. I endured those pains but what was more difficult for me was the thought that I might not be able to participate in the university entrance exam. I called all my teachers and said, “I will miss the exam, what should I do?” They comforted me.
A week later, the general exam was held. Even though I was sick, I participated. My eye hurt a lot that day while my mouth kept watering because of my chin operation. I changed bandages regularly. This was time-consuming during the exam. Because my left eye was blind, I couldn’t properly see the lines on the exam with my right eye, which was still out of focus. Though it took great effort, I got 313 marks, and entered the computer science department of Kabul University. I am sure I would have been in the top 10 if the attack hadn’t occurred.
It had been difficult to get into university even before the attack: I didn’t have the money to pay school fees on time or to buy books. But I didn’t give up. I fought so that maybe one day I could save my family from poverty. When I entered the university, I was very happy that I could study and go to university, even with one eye. Then, when the Taliban closed universities to girls, I lost all hope. This time, the Taliban targeted my heart and destroyed my life.
Now I am in Türkiye, and in the care of doctors. They said that my eye will never regain its vision and the remaining shrapnel in my face may cause me to be paralyzed one day. Everything is painful: The pain of losing my eye, the pain of losing best friends, and the pain of being deprived of education. Most of all, the suffering of my parents bothers me. I see their sadness when they look at my face. Yet, I’m confident about the future. I have never felt disabled and incomplete due to not having one eye. I get stronger every time I see myself in the mirror.
*Along with Fatima Amiri, another 124 were injured in the terrorist attack on the Kaaj education centre while more than 50 were killed. Azada is the pen name of a journalist who lives in Afghanistan.
