Yesterday, I learned about an explosion in the capital, in Dasht-e Barchi, in the Mahdia Township, near the Shama-e Hedayat school. This time, however, the victims were not young people whose names have been associated with explosions and attacks for years. This time, they were children, children who had gone to school with the excitement of learning, carrying books and pens, and who should have returned home with the same innocent smiles, rather than being taken to hospitals. Reports say that dozens of people were injured, many of them students and children.
I do not know why, despite the change of regime in the country, the only thing that seems to have remained unchanged is the cycle of explosions and attacks. Why do Hazaras continue to be victims? It seems that losing lives has become a routine that everyone knows about, yet no one accepts responsibility for ending it.
Once again, mothers and fathers, with broken hearts and tearful eyes, sat beside their grieving families. They prayed for their children and read the Quran, while the dreams they had for their futures were left behind in history, a history that receives a new page of suffering every day, while tomorrow remains uncertain for many.
A few years ago, the Mawood Educational Center was targeted, and young people who represented the future of this country lost their lives. After that, Abdul Rahim Shahid School, Kawsar-e Danesh, Sayed-ul-Shuhada School, and other educational and public centers witnessed attacks and explosions that claimed many lives. And today, once again, children were injured near Shama-e Hedayat School, children whose greatest tool was a book and whose greatest dream was to learn.
Sometimes I wish that, just as I proudly speak to my audience about Afghanistan’s mines and natural wealth, the day would come when I could say with the same pride: Afghanistan is no longer the country it once was. It is a country where security has become a reality. A country where its ministers have graduated from this school and its leaders from that university; a country where children go to school without fear and return home with hope.
I wish the day would come when, instead of talking about defeating one another, we could proudly speak about the abilities and systems that prevent such explosions from happening. I wish the strength of a country could be measured not by the number of weapons it possesses, but by the number of children who can study safely. But I do not know whether such a day will come.
For a long time, we have become accustomed to these tragedies, so much so that sometimes even hearing about an explosion has become part of our daily lives. With tired hearts and troubled minds, we continue living a life in which, at times, we no longer feel truly alive.
It seems that hope and motivation for the progress and rebuilding of this country have been buried beneath this destruction, or perhaps they have disappeared into the air and found shelter somewhere in the sky.
I do not know to what extent unity can be a solution to this problem, but I know that it is time to rise. Let us build. Let us not allow these flowers to be cut down before they have the chance to bloom.
They still recognize water by the sound of the bell. They have not yet learned to sing their country’s national anthem. “Division” may still be one of the most difficult subjects in their lessons, and their biggest concern might simply be getting a good grade on tomorrow’s spelling test. They should not have to face violence simply for pursuing education.
Learning is their right. Knowing themselves, understanding the world, and learning about God are their rights. They should not have to abandon their path to school because of violence and terrorism. They should be able to continue growing and pursuing the dreams they carry in their hearts.
It is heartbreaking to hear that many of those injured in this incident are children, children who should have been worried about tomorrow’s exam, not about being in a hospital. Initial reports also say that many injured students were taken to medical centers.
Oh, my flowers, how sadly you have withered before having the chance to see the spring of your lives. I hope you rise again. I hope your laughter once again fills the school corridors and your small hands once again hold the books that may now remind you of fear.
Let us change the tradition of this country:
turn destruction into building,
ruin into prosperity,
fear into security,
and division into unity.
Perhaps then we can build a better Afghanistan for the next generation, an Afghanistan where children go to school carrying books and return home with smiles; an Afghanistan far from explosions, far from attacks, far from the loss of children, and closer to life.
