The revolution of small gestures

On the carpet, there are thirty-five pupils from 9 to 14 years old. They are busy reproducing "alef", the first letter of the alphabet in the "Dari" language on the notebook. They hold it in awe, as if they were afraid to smear it. It's new, like the rest of the material: subsidiary, pencil, eraser and sharpener, a gift from the school. All are composed. You don't hear the shouting typical of elementary school classes. After all, this is not a classroom. It is a "piece of living room" separated by a curtain from the rest of the house, located in a popular neighborhood of Kabul whose name cannot be disclosed for security reasons. It is one of the many “informal schools”. A project for the literate who, in the end, cannot issue a title but which nevertheless seeks to alleviate one of Afghanistan's chronic dramas: illiteracy, especially among women. Two-thirds of women cannot read or write. A side effect of the now chronic conflict.

A crucial piece of the Asian "great game", a hinge between the Russian-speaking world and the Middle East, between the Indian giant and its Pakistani rival, Afghanistan was an outpost of the Cold War first - with the Soviet invasion in 1979 - and of the terror offensive, then. In the intermezzo a bloody civil conflict from which, in the 1990s, the Taliban were born. Young people from mainly Pashtun refugee camps who grew up without women, whose only identity is an ultra-radical interpretation of Islam, based on the rigid separation of genders that ruled Afghanistan with an iron fist between 1996-2001. The latter managed to survive the fall of their regime by the Western forces in 2001. And to defeat the NATO and US forces with a strenuous and bloody resistance. Twenty years and 150,000 people killed later, Afghanistan is back to where it was in 2001: the Emirate. A regime in which young people - and especially young women - are restless among the rubble of the dream of a possible democracy in which they were raised.
 

The Taliban have transformed the conflict they themselves unleashed into an asphyxiating peace which, after all, is the other face of war. Any form of dissent is forbidden together with music, mixed schools, western clothes. Furthermore, women cannot uncover their faces, travel more than 65 kilometers without a male relative, study after sixth grade. The girls, however, are not willing to give up. Some protest with books and notebooks in front of the institutes from which they are excluded. Others invent creative ways to study. In any case, few stay at home. It is the so-called "revolution of small gestures" fought with a pen in hand. “I was a child during the first Emirate, in the 1990s: only boys could learn to read at the time. I was sorry but I couldn't help it. During the Republic, I could have recovered but I had recently married, then school was far away and leaving the house was dangerous due to the constant attacks. Now, between the crisis and the return of the Taliban, I thought it wasn't the time, but instead..." says Mariam, 30, wrapped in a long black hijab (overcoat), like the scarf that covers her head. Her daughter, Asra, 13, who crouched next to her, changed her mind. After completing the primary cycle, last year, the girl should have started the seventh class, the equivalent of middle school. With a sudden about-face with respect to the initial promises, however, the leaders of the Emirate have decided to limit female education to elementary school. "Only temporarily", however, the Ministry of Education specified. Nobody knows what is meant by this expression.

Asra, however, has refused to stay home in the meantime. And she convinced her mother to do it too. «It's true, I'm further on, I already know how to read and write. But reviewing is good for me. I'm not bored at all. It's a chance to help my mom. She was ashamed, she said she was too big. But I follow it, step by step, so I keep in training », she explains in a weak but determined voice. “My husband agreed – Mariam adds -. The lessons take place within the neighborhood, we don't have to go so far. And, besides, we all knew each other from before ». Tamanà, 15, moved to Kabul a year ago from a village in the province of Nangarhar. “No girls went to school there. And my brother didn't leave me. Here, however, it is different. Teacher Parwana is a woman from the neighborhood. It wasn't easy but she gave me permission. I'm happy to finally be able to study."

Zinet, 15, is too. Two years ago, she was supposed to start seventh grade but classes were interrupted due to Covid. “Then the Taliban arrived and, for girls my age, she never reopened. I was very sad when I found out. I cried that day and my mother cried too.
This course gave me some hope. I have the opportunity to continue studying, waiting to be able to continue. I dream of being able to become a doctor » exclaims the girl in one breath, with the embroidered veil resting on her mouth. She pauses a little then she looks around her as if afraid she's said too much. And she whispers: "If they allow it."

Lucia Capuzzi
NP December 2022