By Hania Forotan
Raihana will never forget the day when a suicide bomber blew up her school in Afghanistan, killing more than 50 people.
She was sitting her university entrance exam when suddenly she heard gunfire. Within seconds came an explosion that tore a deep wound into her side and left her with burns across her back, legs and arms.
Three years on, Raihana still bears the physical scars of the attack on the Kaj Educational Centre in western Kabul. Her back still carries burn marks and her left leg is scarred by shrapnel. But it is her mental wounds that go deepest.
Despite the physical pain Raihana, now 23, had initially hoped to resume her studies the year after the bomb. Then the Taliban shattered that hope with its decision to ban women from higher education.
Her deepest wound, she says with tears in her eyes, was not the physical injury; it was losing the chance to pursue her dreams.
“When I heard universities were closed and that I wouldn’t be allowed to take the university entrance exam, it felt like the second explosion in my life,” she said with tears in her eyes. “In the Kaj suicide attack, I lost my health, but in this second one, all my dreams died.”
Before the attack, Raihana wanted to become a doctor. “Every day, I walked an hour and a half to school. I cut down on food and clothing to pay for prep courses. And then, all that effort suddenly turned to nothing,” she told Rukhshana Media.
Raihana spent three weeks in the intensive care unit of Kabul’s Emergency Hospital after the blast. When she regained consciousness, her vison was blurred and all she could sense were the pungent smell of disinfectant, the groans of the wounded, and the hurried footsteps of nurses. She tried to move, but sharp pain pierced her left side. Her arms and legs were bandaged, and her blood-stained clothes still bore the marks of the blast.
“When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was,” she said. “A few moments later, I realised I was in hospital. My hands and feet wouldn’t move. I thought I was paralysed, that I’d never walk again.”
Raihana’s mother Shirin said the family struggled to access proper care for their daughter – doctors said her only chance of recovery was treatment abroad, something the family could never afford.
The 2022 bomb attack not only ended dozens of young lives but also left the survivors struggling with lasting physical and psychological wounds. Many, like Raihana, have been deprived of effective treatment due to poverty and government neglect, forced to live with chronic pain, visible scars, and haunting nightmares.
She continues to suffer from muscle and joint pain. Every movement, from bending to walking and reaching, is accompanied by a burning sensation that radiates through her neck, spine, arms, and left knee, making daily tasks exhausting.
Raihana’s orthopaedic doctor, Dr Maryam Jafari, told Rukhshana Media that her patient suffers from several serious conditions: a spinal deformity known as kyphosis, chronic muscle stiffness, and severe spasms that restrict her movement and make even simple daily tasks painful.
Psychologist and Kabul University lecturer Mohammad Hussain Saadat added that surviving a suicide attack and then losing access to education would inflict deep psychological scars.
“Such individuals may relive the trauma through flashbacks and nightmares, suffer from insomnia, intense anxiety, or a sense of hopelessness,” he explained. “The closure of universities and loss of educational pathways intensify these feelings, lowering self-esteem and fuelling depression or risky behaviours.”
Support from family and friends, therapy, group activities, and creative outlets such as writing or art can, he says, help survivors like Raihana rebuild their strength and recover their mental health.
Instead, Raihana lives in isolation, fearing being around people. “She doesn’t go out,” said her mother, Shirin. “The few times I took her to gatherings, she cried, saying people were laughing at her. Even now, she wakes up screaming at night.”
