1st May - Heading homewards...

A splendid morning meeting with 30 school consultants and teachers from all the Southern and Eastern schools I am not allowed to visit due to security. I know them well now and recognise the characters--the shy ones who summon all courage to speak; the flamboyant ones, the funny ones and the serious too. One small man who says little, asked to speak. He had written me a poem and read it out in Dari, translated for me by the education leader. It was very much from the heart and very touching and I will always keep it.

I was then presented with a traditional black velvet Afghan costume, heavily covered with gold embroidery, with baggy green trousers and green veil....with a wonderful note attached from all the teachers thanking me for my help and suggesting I am now an honorary Afghan. They insisted that I go and put it on ....

Well, what a struggle! It weighed a ton and was vast in volume of material but very rigid due to all the thick gold embroidery. After a few claustrophobic moments lost in a black tunnel of material I somehow managed to squeeze into it---though the trousers only made it to my knees... so I kept on my own!

As I returned to the room, It felt a little like walking down a corridor in a coffin! They were thrilled! And I had to continue my talk in full costume. That was the easy bit... having given out all the twin material from England and received and packed away all the fantastic gifts from the Afghan schools-not an easy feat when swathed in yards of velvet and gold - it was time to extricate myself from the gown and head to the airport. In the middle of the dress, searching for light and air and unable to get any help as certainly no women anywhere around, I finally broke the surface and breathed insome air, I couldn't help laughing at my near hopeless predicament!

And so I said my goodbyes to these people I have come to know and love so much and headed for the chaos of Kabul International and the gateway to home. It has,as always, been a totally inspiring and humbling visit and, as always too, I have received so much more than I can ever give.

30th April - Shar-i-khona and a shower!

We left soon after dawn for our journey back to Kabul. We planned a stop along the way in Old Baghlan-where Shar-i-khona school is located. Its is twinned to Downe House. I first visited in 2006 and found over 1000 girls studying outside on the ground beside the ruins of their old school which had been destroyed by the Taliban. On that visit, I had gone off to the bazaar and bought biscuits and sweets for the whole school and given them a party. I had also bought mats for all the classes as the girls were sitting on the hard ground. I had also told them that I would do my very best to build them a school......blind faith?

Marshall Wace Asset Management had held a Christmas Appeal that same year and raised enough money to build 8 classrooms. We had then received further funding for another big classroom block. As we drew up at the school, I looked at these 2 beautiful buildings and the girls in the new classrooms. A science class was in full swing in the lab where equipment had been provided by Downe House. Girls were doing an experiment and the burner was on, gases were bubbling and minds were buzzing. Twenty year 12 girls were working away. I asked how many of them wnted to be doctors and everyone raised their hand! And this was the same school which just 2 years before had been under the open skies. All the local schools have use of the facilities here, so the library, computers and science lab are being used by students all over the region, both boys and girls, it is benefitting thousands of students and teachers.

We went into a year 10 class and interviewed the girls.Not one of them has elecrtity or water in their homes, only 2 girls out of 30 have mothers who are literate. They all walk miles to get to the school because there are so few secondary schools for girls in the province. One girl walks 3 hours a day for her 4 hour school shift. She and 4 other girls have permission from their enlightened families to walk to school together - but all the other girls in their village have to stop school once primary education at the local school is finished. Their parents will not allow them to walk so far to school. These girls want to become teachers so they can go back and help the girls in their village to have an education...and so the slow roll of progress is set in motion.

They said that should they be allowed one wish, their wish would be to have peace in their country and to be allowed to continue with their studies.

It is a beautiful school. They have planted stunning scented roses and small trees in the garden and dug pits to protect citrus trees from the winter frosts. There is so much progress here in this very conservative area, progress against all odds....yet still the girls are not allowed to do sports - and over the wall, towering over the school is the minaret of the local mosque, keeping a reign on the wave of progress, refusing to allow it to unleash too fast.

The headmaster is a splendid character and sat recounting the tale of my first arival at the school when all the children were outside - a stranger arriving with sweets and biscuits and hopes of things to come. He plies us with delicious tea and plates of specially bought biscuits
I think this is a fitting end to our trip--this wonderful encounter of the science class for girls in a place once destroyed by Taliban trying to stop all future education for these very girls.

We say our goodbyes and go for a short walk into the rice market. It is like a scene from centuries ago. The donkeys are tethered around a square where hundreds of turbanned men swarm busily around sacks of rice, while vendors weigh the grains on vast copper scales. The buildings around the square are low slung wooden pillared bazaars. The crowds gather in, fascinated by us and our cameras. They are good natured and beg for their photos to be taken and there is masses of good hearted banter and laughter as they call us to their stalls to take their pictures. But them 2 tall turbanned Mullahs appear and a vendor whispers to us to stop filming. The crowd lose their spontaneous cheer and we quickly disappear back to the cars. This presence is so sinister and casts such a dark shadow on the natural joy of these people and their interaction with us.


And so we drive off and over the Salang and back to the smog of Kabul and to the first Western faces we have seen in days ..... and a delicious hot shower!

Photographs!

Sarah has managed to send some photographs for the posting below - they show Bradfield's Twin School Tot Mazar (Red football strips and shields ) and the Kunduz RAD children. ( Blue strip)We also see the girls fascinated by the picture on Sarah's laptop!

29th April - Kunduz RAD and Toot Mazar

Posted by Paula - no photos yet, but will upload as soon as they are available...

I was a little afraid for the first time today. Until then I can honestly say that I have not worried about our security since I arrived. I have not felt threatened or remotely worried. Even now I don’t understand what really happened, but anyway, we are all fine and nothing came of it.

We had a wonderful morning in Kunduz at the RAD – (The rehabilitation of Afghans with disabilities Centre) I have been there 3 times since last March and when I arrived, the girls threw down their books and threw their arms around me. It was a fantastic welcome.

There are 45 boys and girls at the centre and it is a place of miracles. Children who are deaf, blind and mentally disabled, and who would have had little chance of an education or a life outside their homes, come to school by bus every day. Girls and boys studying under the same roof. It is a simple building but well equipped and the teachers are very gentle with the children.
The first class we visited was a class of the younger boys. None of them can hear or speak. The time we spent with them was all conducted in sign language and laughter. I showed them photos of their twin school – Arbour Vale in Slough and all the photos of them I took at my last visit - they loved them, couldn’t get over their photos and pointed very excitedly at whoever in the room was featuring. They studied all the pictures of life in England sent to them by the English students and the maps of where the school is and where I come from. The girls were overjoyed to have us back in their classroom and we had an amazing time showing them photos of a special needs school in England and the facilities they have there and showing them on my laptop, all the photos I took of them last time.

Once we had visited all the classes, we rushed off to the bazaar and bought sports clothes for all the school children. They all changed into it when we arrived back and came outside together and held a volleyball match, got out all the skipping ropes, did cartwheels and played ball. I have never seen girls and boys in Afghanistan playing in the same playground, attending school together ...and here were these children all playing together and all so happy. There was no talking---because they cannot speak, just the sound of happines.

They really love you —the teacher translated for us with a big smile....and we certainly felt loved as they left for home, hugging us goodbye and waving and blowing kisses from the car, hanging out of the windows for final waves as their bus took them off home.

On to Khanabad and Toot Mazar School, twinned to Bradfield College. We crossed rivers and mud tracks to reach the school. It was all very dusty and remote and not renowned as the safest area.

We visited the year 9 group as they are twinned to yr 9 Bradfield. The ages in the class vary hugely - from 13-20 I would guess, depending on how many years of schooling the boys had missed. We decided to interview the class about their day and their lives. They all started very quietly and it seemed very hard work. But as we progressed, they all started to join in and it was fascinating. They are all awake at 4.30am to pray, then do home work and help in the house until school at noon. Some walk over an hour and a half to reach school and then they just have 4 hours schooling. In the school holidays they are expected to work on the land, ploughing and helping sow the crops or harvesting or looking after the animals.

We left the classroom and the whole school gathered in the school yard, supervised by a splendid English speaking Afghan with a long beard, who had been a refugee in Canada for many years. We talked about the twin school project and then handed out the sports clothes and the computers ...given by the students at Bradfield. The team put on their strips and we all gathered on the football pitch to watch the match.

It was then that our driver came up and begged us to leave. We said our farewells and the children gathered round the car and waved us goodbye. Ally, our driver—an ever cheerful, ebullient joker, was sweating and anxious and told us we had to go back by a different route because the Taliban were present and could have laid a remote controlled explosives device on the road.

Just weeks earlier, the Mullah, one of 5 in the area, had gone into the school with a gun and told the teachers it was unislamic to have the children at school. Then a device had been used to blow up a car which was similar to the headmaster’s car. The wrong person had been targeted and the headmaster had survived.

Ally was panic stricken as we drove through high walled dusty tracks between villages. We saw a motorbike with 2 turbaned men in white and he put his foot down....racing towards the main road. We crossed the river at high speed, the water washing over the vehicle and the tyres lurching over the rocks.

I didn’t really know what to think...just as I always reflect - it is like swimming on the surface of the sea—you never quite know what lies beneath. I do not know what was or wasn’t true about the stories of the Taliban. What I do know is that it didn’t feel great - there was an atmosphere. But the school is what matters and they will make sure that they can keep functioning ....there may be some bargaining with the Taliban elements, but it will stay open and education will go on.
Ollie, (our camerman) suddenly announced he had left something at the school.
Ally’s response ..."you can go back by taxi - I no go! “

Monday 28th April

A rotten night with one bad Kabul stomach - and up at 5 to travel to Kishem. Felt so rough and was thrilled to see that the road (which last year had taken hours and was appalling) had been asphalted....bliss! There is so much progress in Afghanistan, so much has changed since coming here a few years back. This road is a prime example and a journey taking 4-5 hours is reduced to one. Distant towns become accessible. Electricity is inching its way across Afghanistan, mobile phones are everywhere.

Chesham is a beautiful city at the foot of the Hindu Kush. It is lush and green and lies along a river, surrounded by poplars and fir trees. It is rare to see such huge amounts of trees in a land where so much has been pillaged for firewood.

Our first visit is to Mashhad Girls school which is twinned to a Swedish school. I am being brought here because they are desperate to have new classrooms and want AC to try and help. They have 2700 pupils and only 15 classrooms. They operate in 3 shifts and still there are 15 classes outside each shift. Everywhere we look there are girls of all ages chanting their lessons under trees in the morning sun and others bursting out of tents. An idyllic scene on a warm April morning, which turns pretty horrific in the freezing cold of winter or the crushing heat (45oC) of high summer.

We drive on to Jeri-Shah Baba-twinned with Holt School, Wokingham. We have been there 3 times before and know the teachers and children now. It is lovely to come back. We have funds to build 6 new classrooms so that all the girls studying outside can come in and sit at desks and benches. We presented them with a new computer (note name of supplier-Dell, we are counting on obtaining some free computer equipment from them based on this and other photos!) Any similar sponsor deals much welcomed?

We visit all the children and talk about the twin school project. They give us beautiful gifts for their twin school and we hand over the gifts from Holt.

This school seems more liberal than most. The female teachers uncover their faces in front of the men ... one even reads us her poetry. It is bizarre that most of these girls have a television in their home, things are changing so fast ....and yet they still sit on the ground outside in the open for school. They all have such aspirations to continue their studies and become teachers, engineers and doctors.

I ask them in one class how many of their mothers are literate - only 4 out of 20 girls have mothers who went to school and are literate. The four are now all teachers! Things are changing ... it is slow, but through education we will see more change. This is the first generation of girls in rural areas to be educated...what better place to help.

I apologise if this blog takes time to appear but the electricity situation is invariably very poor, not to mention the internet.

This is the author up to her normal evening entertainment: writing up the blog in a power out, snapped by an irritating cameraman!

Sunday 27th April

Public holiday today. We are invited by the local SCA staff to a picnic in one of their villages. It is a beautiful day and it is lovely to go out of the city into the countryside. There we reach a small village and find a picnic area under the trees—all set out for us with cushions and carpets. Food arrives in big bundles. The local disability worker brings us tea from his home and plates of raisins and sweets and almonds, all beautifully presented on lace doileys. It is so peaceful that we all start to drift off to sleep under the trees.

There are visits planned for the afternoon. We will visit two cerebral palsied children in their homes. The first stop is with a woman whose husband died in a mining accident. She has a cerebral palsied 4 year old daughter and 3 other children.

She greets us in her burkha and we all go inside her mud walled home. She is an illiterate woman who has little touch with the outside world and is so brave to have us to her home and to be filmed. We ask her about bringing up her daughter and all the difficulties she faces. She just says it is Allah’s will that her daughter is disabled and she loves her and is happy looking after her. I reflect that really the Afghan way of life is ideal for care of the disabled and elderly. These communities look after their own.






The extended family are all under one roof, there is constant child care and the disabled child will always be able to stay in the home. What is lacking is the expertise to help the families and maximise their children’s care. We have these brief moments where we have a snapshot glimpse at another world, one persons life and struggle...we see their homes, talk with them and then we move on.


The next home was through the village. We entered by a tiny door carved into the wall. It was a poor home. We were greeted by the father of the disabled child—a man in his seventies, widowed and re married. His second wife is 40 and looks worn down by life. Their disabled daughter is a beautiful 3 year old who stares and fixes her eyes on yours, but doesn’t smile. She comes into my arms and curls up against me and her mother holds my hand through her white burkha.


They say the girl as a six month old fell on rocks. But there must be more than that—she cannot hear, cannot walk. The mother believes that there must be a medicine which will cure her daughter but says they are too poor to go to a doctor. I tell her that there is no medicine she can buy and beg her not to---having seen the prescriptions of myriads of expensive, dangerous drugs prescribed by poorly trained, greedy doctors and pharmacists; I do not want her money wasted.


None of the family goes to school and neither parent is literate. They give us tea and put out all their precious supply of sugar, but typically Afghan, they offer so much hospitality, all they have.
As we leave the village a strange young man approaches us and starts reading questions at us off a list:-

What is your name?
Where are you from?
What is your religion?... now that is a hard one to answer in this conservative village... the Mullah has just walked past and we are told he is as hard line as the Taliban...and here we are being asked about our religion by some mad man reading without humour or the vaguest smile from his English Language crib sheet ... not the time to mention Christianity!

Extra photos...

Posted by Paula

Here are some extra photos that form part of the blog below. They show the journey to Zouhuruddin, the Headmaster and his Deputies, the girls studying inside and some outside, while they wait for the building to be painted.