The Attack

This spring is four years that I have been teaching at the Sayed al-Shohada School with a helping of library Andishegah for girls.

For two days a week 2 hours for free I teach them painting.

I can say their motivation makes me teach them painting. In just one year’s time, I saw that 10 of my students became very qualified in pencil drawing - a hard task; it is not possible for a person to paint his face in a straightforward way. Later, to encourage them, I decided to hold a painting exhibition at the school for them. Under the management of the school administration and their family.

I usually work with them and never leave them for other things, except to teach the leadership team and continue my University & mountaineering. When I go to any Embassy to display my own paintings, I take my students paintings with me and selling for them. They get more motivation and feel that they are can do for them self. I was encouraged to work, and by doing so, I taught them that they always stand on their own two feet and are confident have confidence in themselves.

I always had 30 students. Any student who cannot coming for some reason was quickly replaced by a new student. There are always a lot of applicants, that's why I was trying my class was not always less than 30 people. Ten of my current students are painting panels and the rest painting with pencil and the color pencil.

I also teach them to ride a bike, one of my friends teaches for my student nature and cycling for an hour every Friday for the three weeks, and then there was only one class left. And after class would end, I had decided that I would ride a bike with them in the mountains of Kabul. Their theoretical lessons are also taught by the help of my friend Farid from the United States.

It was this third Friday that the students each went home after finishing their class. And I went home too. Friday is off in Afghanistan, and I'm so glad for them just seeing their off day and trying to make their future. It was afternoon on Saturday, at 4:37pm, while I was at University, when my phone started to alert to me many unknown numbers, and I did not answer at all. It was 5 o'clock when I finished the class. I called one of the numbers back and one of my friends asked me very strangely, “Saeeda, are you okay?” I said in surprise, "Yes, I'm fine. Why?"

He said: There have been three explosions in the school of Sayed al-Shuhada. My mind went blank and I quickly hung up the phone and looked at the clock. My heart stopped, the students leave at five o’clock every day. I called to my student by the name of Banafsheh but she didn’t answer. Tears were welling up in my eyes and a picture flashed in front of my eyes from the day before. I had just said goodbye to all of them and congratulated them on Eid, in advance. My mind came back to the present, and I called Banafsheh's family phone number. It was busy, then I called my other student, Shukria, who’s number was also busy.

I went to my house. When I got home, I hugged my mother and cried. My mother was crying with me also, and she said don't be upset, God willing, everything is fine and your students are alive. I tried to call each of them, until the wee hours of the night and checked Facebook every minute. Scanning my student's newsfeed frantically to see if they were ok were in the hospital. I also checked and double checked the hospital lists posted online to see if their names appeared. I desperately reached out to the family members of my students, to try and find information from them. “Where they ok?” I was obsessed by Facebook all night. I checked everything I could among friends who also knew my students, but unfortunately no news came that night.

On Sunday morning, I learned from the news on TV that some of the victims of the bombing were being taken to the morgue. People were being allowed to go to the morgue, but I was afraid to go because of the chance of another bombing. I did not dare to go, but just wait and see their photos on Facebook. Until Monday, I waited with dread.

Monday afternoon, I went to teach them painting, as I always did. I went to the school that day and there was no one there. I could see the damage from the explosion and stepped cautiously inside. There I found the list of those students killed and in the hospital, hanging on the wall near the office. Again, I went numb. My eyes scanned through the photos on the list, stopping on the many faces I recognized from the hallways or students that had asked to join my always full class. My memories flitted between the images I last remembered of seeing them, and then my focus went back to the names on the list.

In that moment, I decided that when the school managers came back to the school, I wanted to offer a psychology class to help the students heal and move forward. They needed to again study, to find their motivation to get their education and go to school. I know it was very hard for everyone, but I had to help them see, this this is not the end of the road. We can start again, with our broken legs, with one hand, with the death of their classmates. I wanted to motivate them. I wanted to help them see that they deserve the same school managers and opportunities again and they should always be hopeful. Until the day the students return to school, I look forward to them. I am hopeful that I can once again see my students in person, see their smiling faces for real, not just in my mind.

Update: 09/20/2021

Since writing this blog, Saeeda was forced to flee Afghanistan with the take over of the Taliban. Many of her students remain however, and she hopes she can be an inspiration to them, even though she has left Afghanistan. The Taliban has visited the school and scolded the young girls (class 3 and 4) for not having a proper hijab. Many of the youngest students are struggling with the aftermath of the events of the day and their memories of the terrifying day. Continuing her artwork and teaching where ever she goes, she hopes to help keep their dreams alive too.