I cannot forget that infelicitous day (November 3 last year). I had a story with my brother the night before the Kabul University attack. I wish I knew that night would never happen again. I wish we laughed more.
Two days earlier, I was notified by the university that they wanted to officially register us. That sad day was the result of twelve years of school. I was happy and, like any reckless and happy girl, I took care of myself a little. I took my bag and left the house for university. How did I know it was my last sweet, pointless smile? That was the last day I thought about my longing.
My friend was waiting for me. I had to get to him sooner.
As always, they had to check our ID cards at the front gate of the university. I hurried to my friend and we went to the place where they were going to register us.
After much laughter and discussion, it was finally our turn. A few minutes later, a noise arose. Something seemed to have happened. I said to myself what could it be! This is an academic place. However, the two may have talked and quarreled.
No, it was not. The panic of everyone and the pale faces had a different story. Gradually, I became more and more anxious until I heard the sound of bullets. God! The sound of gunfire.
Everyone started to run away.
The chaos on all sides testified to a horrific incident. We had to leave the campus as soon as possible. I called my mother, telling her to take care of herself and try to figure out about my brother. My friends and I, who were more scared than me, left the university.
My cell phone rang. It was my mother. “Which building was your brother in? It is said that the assailants entered the building of the university law center,” she asked in a trembling voice.
Hearing this, my whole body trembled and I could no longer stand.
God, I wish it was a lie!
I got home, spending the whole day with different news. One said your brother was a hostage and the other said he was badly injured. My condition was getting worse by the minute and my tears were flowing.
The day was over. Slowly, it turned its light into the darkness, but we still did not know the exact news of my brother. We were all looking for a wounded student named Rahid.
A friend of mine sent me a photo of my brother being shared on social media. He was himself, but I did not want to believe it.
He was my brave brother. He is what we have been looking for all day. My tears dried and I just stared at my brother’s photo. That night I had the same pain as the other unfortunate sisters.
I was constantly informed about the martyrdom of all my brother’s friends and colleagues. Rahid was my brother, friend, teacher, and companion. He was a great role model for his peers. He was a fourth-year student at the School of Public Policy and Administration and, like his peers, had big goals in mind, for himself, for his peers, for his countrymen, and his homeland.
He was not allowed to survive. He is now known as the martyr of the smile. My brother was taken from me forever.
Science and learning itself is a divine blessing, and it has been clear from the beginning of time that no society can achieve anything without learning science. In the country in which we live, they try very hard to prevent us from learning knowledge. These efforts are in vain; Because we are committed to learning and we have a strong will in this way. This unfortunate incident caused us great psychological damage, but it could not weaken our will. We are now working to rebuild this troubled homeland because we know that to build a homeland, it is necessary to learn science first.
[box type=”info” align=”alignleft” class=”” width=””]Bahija Sara Amin’s Story, Hasht-e Subh Persian[/box]