On Wednesday, December 21st, 2022, I logged in to my Facebook account and scanned the topics. Among the topics, there was a letter I was attracted by: The Ministry of Higher Education of the Taliban had issued it. I was extremely shocked. I told myself that the news might not be true. Later, I closed my Facebook account and looked out of the window. Everything seemed normal except for the air: it seemed cold, dry, and frustrating. I did not somehow feel comfortable because the electricity was cut off the night before. So, I was not aware of the latest news. Again, I searched for the latest news on my social media. Then, I encountered some international media such as BBC, Afghanistan International, and Hasht-e-Subh that had shared the same ban order issued by the Taliban. I sighed, coldly. My whole body started to tremble, and my tears covered my eyes. I couldn’t stop my tears. I felt helpless and asked God: university education was the only hope for Afghan girls; so, what is going to happen to the girls under the rule of a cruel group like the Taliban? I felt that we were in prison. I thought that education energized the human soul, but Afghan girls are the only human beings who we’re deprived of it.
I had already stood against the Taliban’s injustices and misogyny many times. Hence, I thought to myself, that I would shout out loud this time against the Taliban’s new education ban on Afghan girls. I thought that I should scream to the heavens. Subsequently, I called my friends. A friend of mine did not have any idea about the ban order, and the other had heard about it already. Moments passed quite stressfully. Since we had already arranged to demonstrate the next day, Afghan men also showed their willingness to join us. Seeing that men were ready to join us in protest, I became hopeful and energized. So, my mates and I started writing our slogans and prepared to shout our pains out loud from our hearts the next day. The other night I moved to a location that was already planned. The night seemed as dark as our future. The next day, Kabul seemed completely filled with the Taliban’s tanks and fighters. Sadness was falling, and the roads and streets seemed confused and furious. In the meantime, the Taliban’s suicide group turned up and followed people with strange faces. I was panicked but moved forward toward our destination. When I got there, I did not see anyone except for the Taliban’s bloody fighters. I was shocked. Some moments passed when our fellow protesters joined us one by one. Later, I noticed that there was no sign of men. Our demonstration location was in front of Kabul University’s main gate. There was a large group of Taliban fighters who did not want us to protest. On the contrary, as we had already promised, we had to chant against them. First, I saw some journalists who were supposed to cover the protest, but the Taliban already warned them of the coverage. The journalist feared the Taliban’s aggressive and violent behavior. So, some of the journalists left the area, and some of them were arrested.
Our fellow protesters and I were left alone. Despite everything, we started to shout our pains through slogans: “Education for Everyone, or No one.”, “Food, Work, Freedom.” etc. As planned, we shouted the slogans from the bottom of our hearts, but men were compelled by us. They were only watching us from inside their shops and cars. A few minutes later, we noticed that one of the protesting girls wearing the same dress as us shouted in another language: “Arrest these prostitutes. Don’t let them run away.” Then, we realized that one of the female Taliban spies had entered the protest and wanted to arrest us. Some of us resisted. In the meantime, the Taliban’s male fighters arrived at the scene with American weapons and uniforms. Later, they started to beat us, but we scattered in different directions like an eagle swooping down among sparrows. The Taliban fighters chased us. It was a harsh scene to describe.
Our protests were suppressed by the Taliban. We avoided looking at them, but the Taliban’s fighters received assistance from their fellow female fighters. They succeeded to arrest a number of the protesting women and girls. It was the most unforgettable, heartbreaking scene that I had ever seen in my whole life. I can never forget the girls asking for help. Alas, we were unable to do anything. I can still hear the echoes and voices of the helpless girls in my dreams. It looks like a terrible nightmare.
On my way back home, the buildings of Karte Chahar on the west of Kabul caught my eye, I looked at the streets, markets, and the mountains surrounding the city. The buildings looked like beehives. Millions of people lived there, but no one took the risk to join us and shout for Afghan women’s pain. We were caught between the ignorant and criminals who are not familiar with logical reasoning. The Taliban claim to be the righteous representatives of God on Earth, but their behavior is totally inhuman and un-Islamic. They contradict the verses they’ve learned from the Quran and Hadiths.
Sometimes, I look at myself and ask: Is this the real Islam that the Taliban, ISIS, and Al-Qaeda show? Is this the real Islam that is represented by the Taliban and ISIS in the twenty-first century? Is this the Islam whose last prophet, Mohammad (PBUH), was the husband of the greatest trader of her him? Is this the real Islam of Hazrat Ali (PBUH) whose gentleness and kind face reflected wisdom and brightness all around the world? Is this the Islam of Umar (PBUH) who provided food for the poor late at night? Is that Islam missing?
Moreover, I am full of other unanswered questions like these.
