Books and Pens of Girls Behind the High Walls of Taliban Bans

Shahla’s Story for Zan News

In the dry and cold mountains of Ghor province, where life from childhood has taught girls that “silent breathing” is an art, lived a girl who once thought she could change the world; with books, with pens, with knowledge. Her name is Shahla Quraishi; she is 18 years old, but the life of her dreams was much shorter than she thought.

She says:

“Every morning at seven thirty I carried my books under my arm and happily went to school. I never believed the day would come when school would be a crime, and being a girl a sin.”

With the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan, the remote village of Joqalak in Lal wa Sarjangal district of Ghor, where a ray of hope had entered the heart of Shahla Quraishi, became one of the thousands of places where education for girls was suddenly banned.

In those days, not only were the doors of the school closed, but the windows of hope in Shahla’s heart also began to fade.

“When I heard that I could no longer go to school, it was as if a dagger had been struck into my heart. I cried from night until morning. I could not believe that my life was going to be imprisoned at home, without books, without a future.”

To save her dreams, Shahla decided to leave the country. She went to Iran, hoping that perhaps beyond the borders there would be a place for girls like her; but her hope soon turned into despair.

“Even when I went to Iran, they said you are a foreigner, you cannot go to school. My heart broke. It was as if everywhere I go, the world tells me: you must only remain silent.”

After returning to Afghanistan in disappointment, Shahla’s mind could no longer endure and she developed severe psychological and mental problems. She was hospitalized for months in one of Nimroz’s hospitals, and now she lives on psychiatric medications, while for her there is no school, no dream, and no bright future.

“I decided to kill myself several times. Once I even went to the last step... but I don’t know what happened that I was saved. Maybe because my mother is still waiting for my smile, or maybe because I wanted someone to hear my voice.”

Now Shahla, in a dark room in one of the modest houses of Nimroz, spends her days with sedatives and her nights with tears.

She tells Zan News:

“I no longer believe in anything. Not in justice, not in life. I am only waiting to see how long I will stay alive…”

And this pain is not only Shahla’s, but her story reflects the life narrative of thousands of girls whose voices have been silenced, yet who still keep in their hearts a faint flame of hope in the darkness of this land, a flame that if extinguished will plunge not only a generation but the future of a nation into darkness.