By: Somaya Mandgar
Aziza’s love of golf began as a teenager. In grade nine at high school, a golf federation opened in her city and Aziza’s curiosity peaked. As soon as she was able, she went with a school friend to watch people play. The golf green and the sport fascinated her and she quickly became a permanent spectator. When the Golf Federation opened the sport to girls, she was the first in line.
“Golf is a sport that keeps people happy,” she says. “When you are on the green, you are free from all the sadness and concerns. You feel you live in another world.”
Aziza and three sporty friends from school formed a group that would train together alongside the boys. Aziza’s natural talent shone through on the green. Soon she was coaching other newcomers to the sport and helping the federation recruit more girls to play.
“In a short period of time, I was able to attract more than six girls and teach them golf,” she says.
She was officially appointed as a coach by the National Golf Federation and the girls’ team grew to 12 players. Aziza travelled internationally for the sport, including trips to Turkey, Tajikistan, and Bangladesh. By the time Afghanistan fell to the Taliban in August 2021, Aziza was heading up the Golf Federation in her city. She prefers not to name the city for security reasons.
These days, Aziza, now 24, only dreams of the green. When the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan and banned women’s sport, her work as a golf coach swiftly ended. In her grief, Aziza decided to focus her energy on completing her university degree.
“When we were banned from sports, I was very disappointed. I always felt sick,” she says. “Attending the university was the only way to improve my mental state.”
Now that dream has ended too.
She spends her days at the window of her house, weaving carpets and grieving the life she once had. As a third year student in the Faculty of Social Sciences, she was due to graduate next year. She had even planned how she would celebrate.
“My grades are always above 80 percent. Sometimes I secured the top spot, sometimes the second,” she says. “I love reading a lot in my spare time.”
When the Taliban banned university and educational institutes for all female students last month, Aziza could hardly believe it was happening. After already stripping girls and women of their right to play sport, the Taliban’s new ban seemed even more cruel.
“What good days we had. I don’t think those days will be repeated when we go to the field and play golf,” she says. “They even took away the opportunity to be together.”
Aziza says it took her time to accept the university ban was real.
“Since I heard the news, I wished it was a lie. But it was true. The lies are our dreams that have been trampled in this land. The lie is the light of the sun that cannot illuminate our dark lives.”
With sport and university bans went all the social activities Aziza was engaged in. She frequently participated in theater art, and used to run for exercise in the streets of her city. These activities nourished her dreams of the future.
“Imagine yourself in our place, that schools, universities, and schools are closed to you,” she says. “How would you feel if the right to work, go to a park, gyms, the market, and all social programs were taken from you?”
Aziza says that the university was her last hope.
“The Taliban took the green fields of golf and university from me,” she says. “It’s always on my mind.”
Before educational institutions were closed to female students, Aziza was also learning Chinese. She had already finished her English courses. Every time there is talk of hope, tears roll down her cheeks. In answer to being told, “Don’t lose hope” Aziza reads a verse from the poem of Iranian poet Abbas Khairabadi.
“The feeling of burning cannot be watched / Take fire to know what I am doing.”
Aziza’s name is a pseudonym which she requested be changed for fear of reprisal for telling her story.
