The future is uncertain, but I will not stop trying
Our lives completely changed with the arrival of the Taliban. When they seized power, I was in the sixth grade. When they announced that girls above sixth grade were not allowed to go to school, I was devastated.
All the girls were crying on the day we took our final exam for the sixth grade. I felt hopeless, thinking that it might be my last day of school and I might never be able to achieve my dream of becoming a doctor.
I was overjoyed when I received my exam results and saw that I ranked first in my class. In the winter of 2022, I decided to enroll in an English language class. But on the first day, Taliban fighters stormed in and expelled us. I thought, “Our only hope was this class, and now they have taken that away from us as well.” I cried, saying, “Being a girl in Afghanistan is a crime.”
My name is Sana. I am 13 years old and live with my family in Kabul. We are a family of six — I have two sisters, one brother, and my parents. My brother is 10 years old and my sisters are 7 and 4. My father was once a soldier in the national army, but now works as a street vendor, pushing a cart. My mother did not finish school but she is literate and works as a tailor.
I may be one of the millions of girls whose dreams were shattered by the Taliban but I have not given up.
When I was younger, we lived in Parwan province. I am the eldest child, and my parents always encouraged me to become a doctor. Because of my strong passion for learning — fuelled with the support of my parents — I began my education early, enrolling in school at the age of five. The school was far from our home and I walked a long distance every day to attend class. I even participated in conferences where adults would place a chair beneath my feet so I could reach the podium.
After I completed third grade, we moved from Parwan to Kabul, in part because of the long distance to my school. My parents were willing to endure any hardship to ensure I got a good education. I felt that my life had changed significantly after we moved to Kabul. I attended school and additional paid classes.
After the Taliban closed schools, life became more difficult. I became depressed. Crying became a daily routine.
One day in late 2022, I saw an announcement about a short sewing course for girls at a private university in Kabul. The course had an affordable fee. I showed the announcement to my mother, and she encouraged me to enroll. I rushed to take the course. I started sewing and, within a year, I had learned the skill.
One of my former classmates informed me that she had enrolled in an online school and was using a smartphone to continue her studies. She encouraged me to give it a try as well. I didn’t have a mobile phone, so I tried to register using the phone of my aunt, who lives in our neighbourhood and had supported me continuing my education.
I had to go through multiple exams. I applied for seventh grade. In April 2024, I received an email confirming that I had passed and been admitted. I was thrilled that I could study again. However, the high cost of the internet made me worry that I might not be able to continue.
As sewing work was not very profitable, my mother and I decided to find contract-based sewing work. Through a friend, I was introduced to a couple who ran a small children’s clothing production business. They cut the fabric according to their designs and distribute packages to contract-based tailors, expecting the clothes to be sewn and delivered on time. My mother and I signed a contract, which meant I could earn money to pay for my internet.
The payment is low – we earn 20 afghani per garment – but we have no other choice. If I want to continue studying, I have to work hard. I sew two to three sets of clothes per day, and use that money to recharge my internet package so I can continue my classes.
Every day, I spend three to four hours on a smartphone, attending school lessons via Zoom and Moodle. Many of the teachers are from inside the country. They say they are volunteers who teach Afghan girls out of dedication. This online school is called Azadi (Freedom). It is managed from inside Afghanistan and is completely free for students.
Although online education has saved me from depression, it is not without challenges. The high cost of the internet is one of the biggest problems. Sometimes, the internet is so weak that the audio cuts in and out. Other times, power outages prevent me from attending classes.
Online education is exhausting as it involves long hours sitting in front of a phone screen. In-person learning is much better because direct interaction with teachers and classmates greatly enhances learning.
Still, I encourage all girls who have been deprived of schooling to take advantage of any available opportunities. Never accept defeat in life — and keep fighting under all circumstances.
Ghazal Safi is a pseudonym for a female journalist in Afghanistan.
