Bloodied Shoes and Books Determined the “Dead and Alive”; The Story of a Sayed Ul-Shihada School Victim

The soul has reached the lips, countless bodies lie, and the bodies are numb and frozen. Displaced and wandering in the corridors of hospitals where nothing is known, nothing is clearer than the smell of death. Death shows itself to the people of this strange, barbaric and unbridled land, whether it is a child, a woman or a man. It swallows and swallows to its taste and mothers of this land mourn forever with pain in their chests.

Amidst the waves of wailing, Jawid is wandering behind the gates of the Emergency Hospital. “It was the end of the world, just like the end of the world. As much as the eye could see, there were pools of blood and the bodies of the girls were lying on the floor,” he says. “How could he see these scenes and return to normal life? How is it possible to straighten our backs after today, when the burden of this sorrow has broken our backs? There was no ambulance, people who were killed and wounded were thrown on top of the other into rickshaws and taken to the hospital.”

I ask about his cousin, Aziz Maqsodi, a teacher in Sayed Ul-Shuhada school, who was seriously injured in this terrorist incident. Jawid says: “Aziz’s condition is not good at all. I was called to donate blood. His blood loss is severe. Others also gave blood twice. A shrapnel hit his head, his legs are severely injured and his arm is still bleeding. He cannot bring himself to say and bring bad omen, but when I say “get well soon”, he hesitantly replies: “I don’t know.”

His story goes back to the time of the explosion. Jawid is a professor at Ibn Sina University and his cousin, Aziz is a teacher at the Sayed Ul-Shuhada School. Aziz is from Nahor, Ghazni, and is the son of a calm and kind father who farms there. Incidentally, it has been a few days since his father came to Kabul to see his son, and how unfair it is that after many months, he sees the bloody face of his son. In the midst of all this, woe to the mother who neither knows nor is in Kabul. I wish Aziz would get well soon so that the mother does not know of this. If she does…

Jawid was at the university at the time of the incident. When he enters the office, he sees two of his colleagues crying. He is informed of the bitter incident and urgently goes towards Barchi and Sayed Ul-Shuhada school. He goes to school and, according to himself, sees scenes that can even break the heart of a stone. It is a sea of ​​blood and women, girls and men have fallen to the ground and others are crying. Everyone is missing someone, but they are not identifiable. People have resorted to identify with the bloody shoes, old blue backpacks and the writings on the back of notebooks. There is a father in the crowd who does not shout, only tears fall from his eyes every now and then. “Maybe I can find my daughter’s belongings with her handwriting,” he says. He is confused, and it seems that the more he searches, the less he finds.

In the meantime, Jawid did not find Aziz. The father calls and informs him that Aziz is in Wali-Asr Hospital. He goes there immediately but there is no news of him. He was told to go to Jinah Hospital. The relatives have all come. Aziz’s father cannot speak. The promise of a father and son to meet was not supposed to be delivered here months later, but Aziz was transferred from the hospital again. Every hospital they took was either out of capacity or because there was too much bloodshed, the hospital could not help. He was eventually found at Estiqlal Hospital. Seeing him drowning in blood is difficult, but in the midst of all the anxiety, there is still a bit of hope that he is breathing.

“Many of the wounded who were brought to Estiqlal Hospital died before getting a serum,” said Jawid. “We were waiting for Aziz when they brought out small body. It was clear that the girl was young. The body was wrapped in white pieces. Her relatives were crying so much that it seems the zoomsday is here at this moment. In a corner, a man had come from Behsud and was searching for his daughter.”

Aziz, his condition is not good, he is going to be transferred to the Emergency Hospital. No matter how hard they try, no ambulance can be found. It is almost nine o’clock and ambulances are said to be still at the scene. Aziz is transferred to an emergency room. No one is allowed to enter there anymore. They have only come out several times and told Aziz’s family that the bleeding is very severe. However, the donated blood is not enough.

Jawid is standing behind the gate of the Emergency Hospital with a wave of worried people, each has an injured beloved in the hospital. Every corpse they bring out, everyone rises in fear, as if to prepare to say goodbye, but this time again a schoolgirl has lost her life due to the severity of her injuries. Her name is Nooria and behind the gate of the Emergency Hospital is a commotion.

“Death is lurking to take the lives of all of us,” says Jawid. “I wish someone would come right now and let us know that his bleeding has stopped, I wish they would say Aziz’s condition is good.”

At 4:27 pm on Saturday, May 6, a huge explosion occurred while female students from the Sayed Ul-Shuhada School were leaving the Dasht-e Barchi area of ​​the 13th security district of Kabul. It was followed by two more explosions, which killed more than 50 people and injured more than 150 others.