Programs
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MEMORABLES
Construction Of Shuhada Hospital
The construction work of shuhada hospital in jaghori had just started. We were extremely happy to have been able to secure fund for it. We had to send cement for construction work we purchased some cements from Quetta in Pakistan and I went to the store to uploading was 2 rupees per bag, but I could not understand why the casual workers were demanding fro 5 rupees. I argued with them that the cement would be sent to Afghanistan for construction of a humanitarian hospital, but it did not influence their decision. I was disappointed. I started uploading. I around 50 bag myself. Finally, they changed their mind and agreed to upload the rest at the market wage.
The cement finally reached Jaghori, but most of it was looted by armed groups along the way. At the beginning it happened many time that the armed forces looted construction items, stationery and other material that the organization had managed to send with a lot of difficulties. In the case of the hospital only the materials were looted three times. School materials were also looted many times. Most importantly, there was no authority that one could make a complaint to “
Abdul Rauf Naveed
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I Remember the Days
When I was s student of class four. I was enthusiastically learning. my fellows and I wee commuting daily school had no roof and we were under the floor of sky t to our school , but through four seasons of a year.
Our school was in fact the ruins of angora bazaar. They perhaps had placed the treasury in the rumors spread that a great woman will come to build a proper school for us. All students called her as ‘mother ‘. We welcomed her by a “mother poem”
My dear mother,
May my life be sacrificed fore your and for
Your kindness, grace and serenity …
She was a model of service and sacrifice for the sake of human being. Her visit injected a new energy and enthusiasm to the students, and it opened a new page in the history of our ruins school. She gave comfort to the difficulties of studying and renovated our school. This was undoubtedly, a blessing for the little students who were dreaming of making a utopia in future of their lives. She not only provided material facilities but also bestowed a new direction for balanced and barren minds. She is about to an open a new horizon for a human and ideal life, se is, indeed, a great heroines ‘, she is Dr. Sima Samar.
In the strangulatory time of Taliban, when education was forbidden for girls, the shuhada organization continued to provide education to them I can remember how hard it was to keep schools open for girls. They had to clandestinely come to school.
The girls have by now entered universities for higher education. And it was made possible for them only her shuhada organization. I personally think that the organization’s objectives are longer term. It looks a fare horizon, as afar as centuries in the future of Afghanistan. The founders of the organization are well – aware of the real challenge of the country ‘that is ignorance, discrimination and lack of the rule of law. Therefore, thy we the solution in dissemination of knowledge.
They are trying to bridge the distance between the people and the knowledge. They are in reality fighting against the ignorance and barbarity by establishing schools. One of the problems of our society in the past was the fact that it had only one source of education. Only on specific group of society was the considered that only source of knowledge. People expected the group to answer any question; from name to bread and from politics to law. They were the source of source of knowledge are multiple; people go only to physicians for treatment. the society is going to regain its balance . And most importantly, development is possible to take place only in a balanced society.
Abdul Ahad , Farzam
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The Hero Of My Life
I think everyone , during childhood or teenage , regard some one as ,,, hero or a model of his or her life , however , the hero of my life is some one whom I have regarded as an exceptional personality ever since I recognize myself.
The hero took shape in my mind in the days when I was a student of class fifth we had improvised chairs of stone in the ruins of our village and were happy to see them as chairs of a class room.
Everyone if our school was talking about a delegation who’d come to visit our school. We were advised to read our lessons well in order to be prepared of the delegation the Shuhada organization. On the next day, we were all in our class room waiting for our geography teacher suddenly , a group of people whom we did not know entered our class room . They were accompanied by our headmaster and others teachers. I noticed a very kind person among them who was looking around four corners of our class room. Then she stared for a moment at falling ceiling of the room and asked: “who is the representative of your class? I stood up. I was very afraid of the word “delegation “. Because my father had many times told us of delegations who come and dismissed such and such person … I was thinking the should the delegation be not happy with my lessons they would expel me from the school. This is the exact words of the first question she asked me: “how many continued smilingly since I was confidently arguing to prove my answer, se looked happy a satisfied.
After a while , a new school made of stone and cement was build for us , a big signboard was install at the door of our new school on which it was written “ the shuhada organization “ , I finally understood that the new school was built for us by the delegation who visited us.
On day, a friend of mine was studying a magazine which had the photo of the head of the shuhada delegation on its back cover. O grabbed the magazine from my friend and stealthily cut the photo , I installed the photo on the wall of our house , after wards , whenever I felt disappointed with life I would stare at the photo which would give me energy and motivation for hard – work . it is now a while that I have replaced the photo with a bigger and better photo of her, for, I want her to remain the hero of my family and future generations, I like the kids to ask me who is she, what does she do and why her photo has so respectfully been put on the wall of our house? I would then proudly reply that she is the founder of the shuhada organization ; who build schools for us , who established hospitals and clinics for our patients and who of innocent orphans , who were hungry and ailing , are provide motherly care and love.
When I traveled throughout Hazarajat , I saw many schools and hospital with the same “ shuhada organization “ signboard , when , in 2004 , she was visiting Ashiyan-e- Samar in Bamyan , the widows who were waiting for arrival were exploding in joy and happiness. Orphans were welcoming her with their childish poems. One could see a world full of hope in their eyes, although I was graduated from a shuhada school yet this scene changed my life; as I realized how delightful is a life lived for the sake of others.
Baz Mohammad Amozgar ( Najafi)
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It Was Six Months
The teachers ad not received their salary . We were waiting for a money order ( hawala). But no one could dare to accept money order for schools. Once money dealer had transferred teachers salary through money order and he was forced to pay fine as heavy as two times of the amount . he was also forced to guarantee that he would never transfer the money of a n non-believer and renegade school.
Finally, we had to secretly send a teacher to Pakistan to bring the salary. It took him around 10 days and was extremely dangerous. It is also worth- mentioning that, from time to time rumors was aired that all teachers will soon be arrested and punished. They wanted to intimidate teachers and to fore them to abandon teaching. Teachers, however, took lot of risks and continued.
Yusof Nayebi
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I am “Nasrat”
Childhood is always sweet. I got this point when the elders are talking their past memories and never feeling tired of saying these stories. Badly, you also can find peoples that their childhood age is full of nightmares and incubus and they afraid of saying all those stories. Unfortunately I am also a creature of last category. I have nothing from the childhood period except toil and pain. I get born fifteen years ago in Dashte Tike Foladi Valley of Bamyan province. I was still seven months old that my father died by a mine and left me and my only sister alone forever. My mother went to make a life for herself. I have no complain from my mother. She had the right to run an independent life. Maybe it’s the role of life in this world to run alone all the pains and toils.
My father gave me his only memory for me, “Nasrat”. The cute name that gives me energy and keep me a life. My father gave me the name of Nasrat because of helping others and those who deserve to be helped. Other wise to day I have not been in the Orphanage and could not following-up the way of my mother Dr. Sima Samar.
My life and my sister’s life started with pains and difficulties. My uncle looked after me when I was seven years old. Than tried to use us as a labor. When we were getting up at early morning, I and my sister together were looking after mucks and bushes in the mountains. Commonly we had to be back at home at noon with full bags. Other than, my uncle was beating us hardly. We were doing the same at the afternoon as well. it was my only hope to eat eagerly and my uncle pates me a day. For fulfilling these hopes, I was leaving away from home and I remember the nights that till the sun raise I was shaking of being cold in open air.
After years of hardships and pressures, I came to know the Bamyan city. When I arrived to Bamyan city, I was sailing “Bolani” for Afs 300 per month.
A day I saw a women when I was washing her car. He promised to me that she will support me after talking with her brother. For a period of time I was working in a Barbary. It was my plan to go to Kabul.
One day when sun was rising, Nasrullah who is my friend he kept me to Karte Sulh School and I talked with supervisor of Shuhada Orphanage. After a single day the provincial manager of AIHRC introduced me officially to Shuhada Orphanage. It is for a period of three years that I am living in such clean and innocent environment of Orphanage. Beside this, I am going to school at grade six and I am the 2nd position holder.
I found every thing when they were lost. Father, mother, brother, sister, the very great and innocent period of childhood, study, food, cloth, kindness, respect and all goodness! Shortly, I found my life here again.
When my father died and my mother left me a lone with all difficulties, I was feeling that I am the most unsafeguarded one in this world. When the other children were going to schools and supported by their parents, it was very difficult for me and feeling pain. I was asking from myself, who left me and my sister in a big trouble? God? Nature? Or those who are enjoying to put others in trouble like me?
Unless, me and my sister did not have the privilege to sleep with a nice sing of lullabies? And learn step by step from our father? Finally I got that we are evils created only for feeling pains.
In Orphanage, I got that nothing is ever an over. Behind every bad, maybe its good. If my father was a life, perhaps I was not here in Orphanage and my future was the same as my father and was unable to help others.
Now I am one of the happiest men in the world. I am intent to be like my mother Sima Samar and my father Mr. Naveed and help others.
Now I am the real Nasrat. Who will help hundreds of those who need and deserve the help!
Nasrat Naveed,
Shuhada Orphanage,
Grade Six, Karte Sulh School
Bamyan, Afghanistan
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If Shuhada As Not There To Help Me Change My Fate …
It is 21st June 2007 and I fell gloomy I am not in a mood to attend the class. for a few minutes, I am wandering under the trees in the campus of the law and political science faculty, Kabul university, nothing is there to amuse me, in order to escape the mood, I go to the information technology center of the university and sit at a computer that is connected to internet I feel dying for a chat , but none of my friends at yahoo Messenger list are online . A few moments later, Julica of Germany comes online. We became friends only a week ago, she studies anthology at the Achen University.
We talk about cultural difference , the clash of cultures and globalization very soon , we come to know about our commonalities on these issues , she tells me how surprise she fell to chat with a 24 – year old young afghan she asks me :” there was ware and crisis in Afghanistan until recently , how and where did you study “? The image she has from Afghanistan is a country where people know only about ware, weaponry and opium, she thinks that such people are foreign to the books and complicated discourse of village of the central highlands “how “? She asks again. this time here question takes me back to my village in Hazarajat, to the school I attended and to the chair I have engraved my name on it with a knife t char was quite similar to the one I sit on university, I fell amused by thinking about to it similarities of war time chair and that of peace and democracy era. I asked myself:” who provided such a chair for me in the ‘land of stone and need ‘, the Hazarjat ? I jerk and tell to myself, oh the lawyer and political scientist! Had the shuhada organization was not there to change your destiny , you would have by now been , like those born ten years earlier than you in your village , either , farmer in your village or a vendor of second – hand goods at kot-i-Sangi Square in Kabul
Asef Ashana
Student of Kaw and Political
Science, Kabul University
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My life and my life fortune
I am sure that you all have heard about harshness, the harshness in a family, but I have seen the harshness and I am one of the sacrificed children. My mother without any
support lost her everything such as her eyes, her child and her life.
I was born in the Foladi valley at the center of Bamyan Province!
Oh! What a difficult and torturing is reminding my childhood life fortune, the only life fortune in which nothing comes to my mind except torturing my mother. Someone say about the affection of father, beauty of pleasant childhood life time, childhood happiness and school time pleasure. I do not believe in these things. I do not believe that any child has been benefited from father love or has gotten pleasure from his childhood life fortune. May be I do not remember anything except sadness from my childhood time.
My father was so angry man. As much I remember everyday my father used to torture and injure my mother cruelly and every time I remember those days when my mother used to be unconscious due to torturing of my father and I used to sit with her and mourning for her.
The anger of my father was becoming more and more everyday. Everyday he used to torture my mother in different ways.
At last my father beat my mother very severely duet to which my mother became blind and in the process of time both eyes of my mother became blind.
No one was there to ask, why? No one was there to ask my father what my mother fault was. Didn’t she have the right to get pleasure from the beauty of the world?
Now my mother couldn’t see me. Everywhere was dark for my mother and for me. We did not have any shelter to live and used to feel that we are the only bad luck people. The harshness of my father used to get more and more everyday. We were compelled to escape to be convenient for some moments.
We were in Mazar Sharif for two months. My mother used to beg people for money on the roads to find some food for me. We used to spend nights in the Shrine of Imam Ali (AS). There were some days that we did not face the torture of my father due to which my mother and I used to feel comfortable. On the other bad day, one of the relatives of my father saw us and took us to my father’s home. I was thinking that my father was regretting and missing us, but this thought was not true.
As we reached home my mother was being tortured. Can you feel and think of the child whose shelter is only and only his mother and his mother screaming due to his father’s torturing. No, it is impossible for you to feel. When I saw the situation; falling my mother on floor and became unconscious and I was unable to do something for her, so I wanted my death from God. I complained God many times for creating us misfortunate to bear these kinds of sorrow and grieve. My mother was divorced on that day. She had lost her eyes and she had lost her child and life partnership. My mother did not want to leave me alone, but man leadership, rules of man and men’s unmerciful traditions separated my mother from me. She did not have any body to lead her. She went alone though she couldn’t leave without me. My mother’s feeling was humanitarian feeling to me. She cried a lot for that day. I think I was not a good boy for my mother. She used to bear all the sorrows and grieves because of myself. I was taken to my aunt’s home. One day they brought me to Samar Shelter Center.
Now I have been living here for four years. At the time of my entry I was afraid of everybody and did not believe that there are these kinds of merciful people existing here to encourage me. It was contrary to my belief. I found a merciful mother in these life hours who is the mother of many children without any shelter and whose mercifulness is seen the immense world. This mother is Sema Samar. Before the entry of Samar Shelter Center, torturing and sorrows surrounded me too much that I was not able to study or go to school. Now I started studying in school in the Samar Shelter Center and reach to fifth class. I am first position holder in my class in theses years. I am totally hopeful and full wanting struggle. My feeling of promotion increases day by day. I am to finish and eradicate the harshness. I am to support the homeless mother and children. I am to help misfortunate people. I am to maintain the justice system and resist against cruelty.
Yes, I am!
Because,
I know the value of justice and rudeness of harshness and cruelty better than others.
I know better than others that harshness is so shocking.
Mercy
Sajjad
One of the children in Bamyan Samar Shelter Center
First position holder in the Solh Primary School.
Written and Compiled by Abdul Ahad Farzam.
Date: 4/11/1388
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