My Childhood Scene
My childhood memories are varied and different as compared to others.
When I was 9 years old, 9/11 happened, and the U.S. invaded Afghanistan, girls started going back to school. Despite legalization of girls’ education by the government, women were still stigmatized by the society. The most a girl could do was to finish high school and become a housewife. I was so cherished with the opportunity of going to school. Everyday after school, in the golden sunset, when glaring lights were out and a chilly breeze hit the trees, I and my classmates would get together to study on a tiny hill near to school. There were two giant and old trees on the eastern side of the school, a small natural hill stretched in between the trees and the logs were huge enough that three to four people could hide behind the tree.
In Afghanistan, uniform for girls at school is black, and I had one black dress for school. One day, my dress was not clean. I did not want to miss school, and had to wear a different dress. I was wearing a brown short dress with long sleeves, black shoes and a white scarf. I had done my all homework with classmates on the hill near to school, but I was still scared and couldn’t imagine what would be my punishment for not wearing a black dress. It was a sunny and hot day, and we (my sister and I) had to walk five miles from our house to school. The hot and heavy air was like the blaze of astonishing fire. By the time we reached to school, we were tired, and sweating all over the body.
When we entered the school gate, the school was crowded with students and teachers. The tall, skinny and well dressed principal was holding a stick and standing right next to the school gate. He did not notice my dress and asked everyone with her deep voice to get to classes. I was very excited, and smiling for the lucky day. I was holding my sister’s hand, and we were heading to the class. There were three small white buildings in our school, and each of the building had 10 classes. When we walked into our class, some were chatting and others were busy with their books. I put my backpack on the handle of my chair, and my sister put her bag on her left side. She always used to sit on my left side, right next to me. I took out my books and notebooks from the bag and put them on my table, and I started discussing the previous lesson with my sister.
All the students were still rushing to classes when we heard an announcement with a familiar, thick voice and I believed it was the vice principal. I heard his voice trembling, and he couldn’t find words how to make the announcement. Finally, he said, “All the students should leave the school now. There was a report that a suicide attacker was inside the school.” There was a sudden scream of students, “run, run,” and the students were running to the school door, and everyone was pushing each other to make it to the door as fast as possible. My sister was yelling at me to hurry up, but I was worried about my books that I put on my table. We were horrified and scared to death because Taliban warned families before to ban girls’ school. I was screaming I did not want to leave, “my books, my books, my books, please!” But my sister was dragging me to leave the books and run to the door with her. She was holding my hand so tight, so I wouldn’t run back to class to collect my books. When we were running down the stairs, a teenager, taller than I, pushed me to get out of her way. I fell on the stairs; my knee was bruised and swollen.
My sister was yelling at me to get up and run but my knee hurt so bad, I could not run fast anymore. I somehow managed to make it to the door. We were sweating and the sun was even hotter. The road was packed with people who were looking for their children. My sister was constantly pushing me to run and with that swollen knee, I ran and ran. When we made it home, my mom freaked out when seeing us so horrified. We told her what happened, and she was so grateful we were safe. Later, the school was closed for a week, and we never heard anything else about the suicide attacker.
