featured image

Letters of despair: We live in hope of light

September 18 is the third anniversary of the Taliban’s decision to close schools to girls above grade six. To mark that day, Zan Times is publishing letters from girls who have been deprived of education to show the extent of the suffering created by that Taliban decision. 

In the past two years, women and girls have shared their personal stories about life under Taliban rule and especially the impact of the education ban. Now, we are publishing a selection of those letters. Last week, we published the first letter along with an introduction that highlighted the Taliban’s restrictions against women.

Sign up for This Week in Afghanistan newsletter

* indicates required

Our aim is to document the oppression of the Taliban and emphasize the importance of fighting for women’s freedom, especially their right to education and work. 

These five letters are from girls who were in the final years of their education.

I have met my mother’s fate

Name: Rehana

Age: 21

Province: Jawzjan

When the Taliban came to power, I was preparing for the university entrance exam with many dreams in my heart. The Taliban crushed my dreams, but I still hope that schools and universities will reopen so we can return to our studies and work.
We’ve been waiting nearly three years for the Taliban leader’s “second order.” In these three years, not only have schools remained closed, but new decrees restricting us girls and women have been issued every day.

My father is a teacher with a salary of 9,000 afghani a month, which is not enough for our monthly expenses. We face many financial problems.
There are nine of us in the family, and my father is the only breadwinner. I am the eldest child. Before the Taliban, I thought I would work after university and contribute to the household so I could help my father. 

My mother is illiterate; she was deprived of education during the Taliban’s first rule. Now I have met the same fate.
I want to study, but no one listens to the voices of me and millions of other girls. When I see the economic difficulties and the many restrictions against women, I think Afghanistan is no longer a place to live for us.
I want to learn and work; I don’t want to live in poverty and depend on others for the rest of my life. Open the doors of schools and universities so we girls can learn and not remain in darkness!

Online learning does not have the joy of school

Name: Erm Adrien

Age: n/a 

Province: Kandahar

I was in 10th grade when the doors of the school were closed to me. I studied with passion and wanted to pursue journalism. The closure of schools destroyed my dreams.

For about a year, I was deprived of education but I didn’t give up. I started studying online. My mother supported me greatly. During this time, I read nearly 50 books, but learning at home doesn’t bring the same joy as going to school.
I haven’t given up and continue to try, but I face many challenges. Now, internet access has become one of the serious obstacles to my efforts.
My mother is unemployed, but she helps me with my studies. Unfortunately, due to lack of internet access, I sometimes miss my classes.
I have realized that life without education is very difficult. My message to boys is to make the most of the opportunity you have for education and learning.

I wanted to be independent and self-sufficient
Name: Nazita

Age: n/a

Province: Kabul
I was in 12th grade when the doors of the schools were closed to girls. I had been preparing for the university entrance exam (Kankor) and was often scoring around 330 points in the preparatory courses. I was confident that I would get into medical school.

In the Kankor prep courses, which were held jointly for girls and boys, the top six positions in the exam results were held by girls. The Taliban took everything we had and destroyed it. They closed the Kankor prep courses, shut down schools, and left us deprived of everything. When my family saw no hope of schools or universities reopening, they arranged my engagement. I said no and tried very hard to delay the engagement, but it didn’t work.

My father works for the Taliban administration and is constantly harassed because he used to work for the previous government — sometimes over his beard, sometimes over his clothing, and other times because of his past affiliations.

I am stuck at home. Sometimes I study a little, and sometimes I sit and cry. I have become distant from my friends and no longer attend social gatherings. I have lost interest in everything. I tell myself that all my efforts were in vain, and instead of going to university, I’m now sitting at home.

I worked so hard! I stayed up many sleepless nights to become a doctor, an accomplished, independent, and self-sufficient girl, but my efforts were wasted, and my plans fell apart. I might get married in five months. I have forgotten much of what I learned in school and the Kankor prep courses. What am I supposed to do with this dark future ahead of me?

Afghanistan has become a graveyard for women and girls. Please do not ignore our problems. We, the girls deprived of education, live in the hope that one day light will shine upon our lives.

I did not give up

Name: Tayeba

Age: n/a

Province: Kandahar

From childhood, I dreamed of becoming a successful doctor. Unfortunately, this childhood dream of mine did not come true. On August 15, 2021, during our 9th grade exams, the country underwent political upheaval, and a new government came to power. As a result, girls’ schools were closed, and later, the doors of educational centers were shut to girls. With the Taliban administration taking over, all of my academic dreams, along with those of many other girls, were shattered.

At first, like many girls, I felt deep sadness and worry about my future. But after some time, I realized that sadness and despair were not solutions. I had to keep trying, stay strong, and not surrender. I thought to myself, even though schools were closed, I could still use a pen and notebook. So, I studied by myself for two months and attended extra math classes.

A year later, I managed to obtain my 12th grade graduation certificate by an unconventional means and enrolled in a midwifery institute. I admit that the path I took wasn’t the official or legal one, but under the circumstances imposed on us girls, talking about legality and formalities seems pointless. When those in power try to strip us of our rights, it becomes our duty to fight for our dreams. I put all my effort and energy into succeeding.

By September 2023, I was in the second semester of midwifery studies when universities were once again closed to girls. I was forced to stop my studies, and my sorrows resurfaced. I reached a point where, as the saying goes, I was forgetting my own name. Strange and disturbing thoughts filled my mind. I felt a deep sense of frustration and powerlessness. 

Yet, I managed to overcome my emotions. I regained my motivation and continued to strive. I enrolled in an online school and resumed my studies.

Now, I worry whether the diploma from this online school will be recognized in Afghanistan. I continue to study, but the fear that my dreams may not come true haunts me.

I hope that opportunities for education, learning, and scholarships will be made available for us girls. Once we complete our online courses, we should be given valid certificates so that we can use them to pursue further education and work. I also hope that online schools will be supported in improving both the quantity and quality of their work, so that more girls can benefit from this limited opportunity.

Schools and universities should reopen and breathe life into our tired bodies
Name: Ai’Jamal

Age: 19

Province: Jawzjan
When I was young, my father developed heart disease. The doctors in Afghanistan were unable to treat his condition and we had to seek medical care abroad. The cost of my father’s treatment imposed severe financial difficulties on us, and we were forced to seek help from relatives and friends.

My father’s illness became a source of motivation for me to become a heart doctor, hoping that one day I could treat him myself and prevent others from having to leave Afghanistan for medical treatment. My father’s medical expenses were so overwhelming that all our money was spent on his surgeries. For this reason, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to enroll me in a prep course for the university entrance exam (Kankor). I studied hard on my own, trying to prepare for the exam.

Every time I looked at my father, my determination grew. He noticed my efforts, and, unlike some friends and relatives, he supported me and encouraged me to continue pursuing my dreams. In 2021, after much effort, I succeeded in gaining admission to Kabul Medical University. I felt an immense sense of achievement, thinking I had overcome the hardest part and that the rest of my journey would be easier. But that was not the case. I didn’t even get to sit in a single class that I had worked so hard for.

I still dream of continuing my studies. I know I am not alone in this dream; thousands of women and girls across Afghanistan are longing for the reopening of schools and universities.

I have not lost hope, and I believe that God will reward my efforts. Let’s pray that schools and universities for girls reopen soon and breathe new life into our tired souls.

Sign up for This Week in Afghanistan newsletter

* indicates required

Subscribe to our newsletter

* indicates required