By Azada Tran and Raha Azad
It was midnight when the dormitory erupted with bad news. Some of the women couldn’t stop crying after hearing the announcement. Finally, at 2AM, Soha* called her family to tell them the news: Afghanistan’s health institutes that had been accepting female students were shutting down.
It was the second time the 25-year-old’s dreams were thwarted by a Taliban whim to ban her from an education.
Soha had traveled from Badakhshan to Kabul to study dental prosthetics at the health institute that had just closed. Her original plan to study Law and Political Science at Badakhshan University was crushed when the Taliban banned girls and women from universities in her second year of study.
Soha has now returned to her family of 11 in the Baharak district of Badakhshan.
“I had no choice but to return. I needed money to stay there [in Kabul], and my family’s economic situation in Badakhshan isn’t good,” she said.
“But every day that passes, I feel like it’s getting worse.”
The Taliban decree to close medical institutes at the start of December has been a massive blow to girls and women. It was one of the few fields where they were permitted to study and work under Taliban rule.
The fundamentalist group has paid little attention to the widespread condemnation from women and international organizations over its latest decision.
For those again deprived of an education or a future, they say that every day since has been filled with an overwhelming sense of despair.
“It’s better if they kill us”
Mozhda, 20, and her 24-year-old sister had turned to study at a health institute after the university ban.
Originally from from Fayzabad city in Badakhshan, Mozhda was a journalism student at Badakhshan University when the Taliban closed universities to women. She subsequently took up midwifery at the Ghazanfar Health Institute, while her sister was studying nursing at another institute.
The exhaustion and distress from this latest ban were clearly visible on their faces.
Mozhda said she was about to complete her third semester, while her sister had only one semester left to finish her studies.
Just a day before the health institutes were shut down, her and her friends had been talking about their graduation celebration, she said.
As Mozhda bursts into tears recalling the days of the decree, her friend Benafsha, who was sitting in the room with her, said with anger: “It’s better if they kill us, so we can be at peace, and this ignorant, misogynistic society can be rid of us!”
Mozhda’s mother who was also present said: “My situation is even worse than my daughters’. On one hand, there’s my health problem, and on the other, the worry about my daughters is draining me… My heart weeps for my daughters, but what can be done?”
Devastating long term consequences for health
There were around 146 private medical institutes and 10 public institutes operating across Afghanistan at the time of the Taliban decree with more than 35,000 female students.
The closure has raised significant concerns about the consequences on the health of women and girls from international groups, especially considering many conservative families do not permit girls and women to be treated by male doctors.
The United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) reported that Afghanistan currently needs 18,000 midwives to address urgent healthcare, reproductive, maternal, and newborn needs.
Human Rights Watch released a statement saying the decision would lead to “pain, suffering, disease, and premature death” for women in Afghanistan.
“I was numb”
Faryal*, 21, was so excited when she passed the 2021 university entrance exam and obtained a place in Bachelor of Engineering at Balkh University. But she didn’t get the chance to finish her degree because of the university ban.
She said after about two years of despair, she finally enrolled in a health institute in Badakhshan and completed her first semester, only for the Taliban to shut down that institution as well.
Faryal learned about the closure of the health institutes through a message from her close friend.
“I thought she was joking, and then she sent a few sad stickers followed by crying emojis until I called her. She was crying on the phone. I was numb for a moment. Then, Sakina’s cries made me cry too, and we both cried on the phone together,” Faryal said.
Sacrifices to study gone to waste
Karima*, 23, faces the prospect of having to return to her family who had opposed her studies at the health institute in the first place.
She said she doesn’t know with what courage she will manage to return. Two years ago, she stood up against her family’s opposition and made her own way to Kabul with the small amount of money she had saved from her embroidery work in central Daikundi province.
She was in her fourth semester of nursing when the Taliban closed institutes. Uncertain about her future, she has remained in Kabul. According to her roommates, she no longer seems to eat or drink much and she doesn’t cry anymore.
Karima said that on the Tuesday morning that the news of the institutes broke, she remembered her father’s warning that the Taliban would never allow women and girls to get a proper education.
“I couldn’t believe the institutes would be closed, but when the head of the institute told us they were shut down and we should prepare for the final semester exams, my whole body went weak. I couldn’t even hear properly. I kept thinking, How will I go back to my family? With what face can I return?”
The shame of ignoring her father’s objections and the memory of the sacrifices she has made weigh on her.
Karima said that she managed to reach Kabul with only 1,500 afghanis ($21) saved from her embroidery work. She continued to embroider in Kabul for an income, using this to cover her room rent, the cost of the course, and other living expenses.
She said the suffering she encountered trying to make ends meet was a common story among her fellow students.
“Believe me, there was not a single person to hold our hand or encourage us. We always tried alone to at least stand on our own two feet,” she said.
“I heard about lack of money, hunger, favors, and thousands of people’s conversations, hoping to achieve my dream.
“Now I have no other dream except death.”
Unwanted marriage the only plan for future
Midwifery student Zahra*, 21, came to Kabul this year from the Punjab district of Bamyan province to study. She was in her second semester at the Farabi Institute when the institute closed.
Coming from a poor family, she had paid her own rent and institute fees by working as a cleaner and laundress while keeping it hidden from her family.
Zahra said she saw this as the last chance to achieve her dreams, but the Taliban prevented it. And now she’s afraid to return home for fear her family will consign her to a different life.
“My family says I should get married. There is no longer any study to use as an excuse, saying that I’m still in school,” she said.
“The problems are overwhelming. I live each day with despair, and it has truly exhausted me.”
Note*: Names are changed due to security reasons.
