The Girls’ Teacher
Beneath the brazen sun, a long line of girls, 6 to 13 years old, step into a dusty school courtyard. They neatly align themselves single file into rows youngest to oldest in front of a brown brick building. Under the bright blue skies that match their school uniforms, fifty pairs of eyes are following Ms. Aqeela Asifi as she walks among them, encouraging them to pursue their studies diligently. “Wherever you go, you should have one goal: to obtain education and gain knowledge. Without, we are nothing,” she declares in a steady, clear voice. On her signal, a few students disengage from their rows and walk to the front to lead the morning assembly. They perform a concert of sorts – several chants, poems and songs. “May I be the light that brightens everything,” they say in unison before Aqeela claps her hands. It is time to find their seats inside.
The girls’ school in the Camp No. 6 neighbourhood of Kot Chandana refugee village is nestled along the base of the Salt mountain range on the outskirts of the remote town of Mianwali in Punjab province, Pakistan. The young students are second and third generation Afghan refugees. Born and raised in a rigid community entrenched in conservative values and extreme poverty, education is not a matter of course for these girls. But thanks to the dedicated work of their Afghan teacher Aqeela Asifi, the 2015 winner of UNHCR’s Nansen Refugee Award, a ray of hope has been given to these girls and hundreds of refugee children like them.
Forced to flee
Aqeela came to Pakistan as a refugee in the early 1990s. She fled Afghanistan together with her husband and two young sons during the Mujahedeen takeover of Kabul. “Initially, I thought I was going to be in this camp for two months, but the situation in Afghanistan was getting worse every day,” Aqeela recalls.
Waking up at 4.30 a.m. for morning prayer, preparing the family breakfast, heading to school to teach, returning home and preparing lessons – this has been Aqeela’s daily routine for the past twenty-three years. It may seem mundane to some, including herself, but this very pattern has proven to the community and her students that a woman can hold a job and still be a respected mother and mentor. “I remember wondering how I could start teaching in a society that was so cultural and tradition-bound,” Aqeela remarks, sitting crossed-legged on the floor inside her simple house alongside her husband and three of their children.
She is dressed completely in black head to toe, only her face showing. She nervously tugs and readjusts her headscarf to ensure the fabric has not slipped. More than 20 years of living among one of Afghanistan’s most conservative communities has taken effect.
I didn’t want to challenge traditions, but I felt girls had the right to learn.AQEELA ASIFI, Teacher
A cultural challenge
Far away from her cherished classrooms of Kabul, Aqeela was quickly confronted with the harsh reality of daily life in a tribal refugee settlement where education – if not a taboo entirely – was at the very bottom of the community’s priorities. Due to cultural sensitivities and poverty, parents opted to send their children to work rather than to school.
Growing up in an educated, liberal middleclass family herself, Aqeela was especially struck by the complete absence of schools for girls in the village. “There was no thinking that girls could be something else, other than a wife. This sort of mentality was transferred from one generation to another. No one would think that a girl should have a notebook.”
“I didn’t want to challenge traditions, but I felt girls had the right to learn,” Aqeela says and glances at her husband, Sher Mohammed. One immediately understands his important role in her story. Always patient in the background, he is clearly a steadfast pillar of support for Aqeela, as well as a messenger and co-advocate. Cultural sensitivities dictated that Aqeela was unable to approach the community elders directly. But Sher Mohammed gives all credit to Aqeela in convincing the village’s twenty tribe leaders to establish an education initiative for girls.
Changing lives
They granted her permission to establish the very first tented school for girls. In the beginning, the obstacles were omnipresent. Only few girls were coming to her tent; families were still highly suspicious. The elders first sent their daughters on a trial basis to test her teaching methods. Aqeela started teaching Islamic studies, which turned out to be a new level of discovery to both the students and the elders, as they realized they never knew the meaning of the words they would repeat during prayers. By making this meaningful link between education and religion Aqeela was able to earn their trust.
To encourage further enrolment in her school, Aqeela set off on her very own lobbying campaign, walking door to door to convince the most conservative parents of the benefits of sending their daughters to school. She also started introducing her students to personal hygiene and home management skills such as cookery and how to serve guests. This innovative approach and boundless resolve paid off, the word of her relevant lessons started spreading across the community. Within a few months more and more parents sent their girls to her tent.
Started from scratch
The girls had neither paper nor pencils, so Aqeela would meticulously set aside small sum of her own money to buy them. She literally had to start from scratch; her students not even knowing the word for teacher. She spent many nights creating her own booklets and making copies by hand. “I had no other choice,” she says.
Aqeela taught her pupils basic literacy, Afghan cultural and religious traditions, foreign languages and mathematics. She brought children from the fields to the classroom and filled their free time with meaningful activities, while respecting the community’s habits and cultural norms. More and more girls continued to join until the tent expanded to six.
Two decades later, the tents are long gone; in their place are permanent school rooms, chalk boards and desks. The village has become supportive, helping her to build the school rooms and hire teachers. Inspired by Aqeela’s success, other schools have opened throughout the village, for boys and girls. To date, more than one thousand students have completed their studies with Ms Asifi. Today, 1500 boys and girls attend class - yet there is still a long way to go. An estimated 3000 children aged 6-15 are still out of school; 70 per cent of them are girls.
An on-going battle
Socio-cultural barriers to education for women and girls are common within the Afghan refugee community. While many families speak convincingly of the benefits of education for their sons, the majority do not see the same benefit in sending their daughters to school. Aqeela was concerned to see so many girls not attending and after a few days she approached and asked them directly. “We don’t go to school, we are girls, school is not for us,” they told her.
Low levels of access to education and training for Afghan refugee girls over the past 35 years has not only led to a shortage of female teachers but also a shortage of female doctors, particularly in rural areas. Cutting Afghan refugee girls’ education short thus not only impacts future generations’ education opportunities and denies girls important role models, but it also has a negative effect upon women’s and girls’ health.
Even in cases where families are willing to send their younger girls to primary school, parents often remove them before they are able to complete. Approximately 80 per cent of those enrolled drop out before grade three when deemed old enough to carry out domestic work and care for younger siblings. In Kot Chandana strict cultural traditions prohibit women from walking unescorted in the streets, meaning that most girls are married off before their 12th birthday. This often quickly leads to early pregnancy, at which point the girls’ hopes for continuing their studies slip even further out of reach.
“When a very bright student drops out I try my best to find the real reason behind it. If the family cannot afford books or uniforms I will buy it for them, if it is not an issue that can be solved with the mother, I ask my husband to talk to her husband or even the elders,” she says.
I will keep going until I feel I have reached a point where every member of the community is able to contribute to the betterment of the society.AQEELA ASIFI
Despite the barriers
Despite the barriers, Aqeela does not hesitate for a second in ensuring that her mission to empower young girls will continue for life. “My desire for a positive change is still there,” Aqeela says. “I will keep going until I feel I have reached a point where every member of the community is able to contribute to the betterment of the society.” She admits that every day brings a new challenge, but adds that the very same day also brings a victory. “Education is a wealth, you get more by giving through education – share knowledge and it spreads,” she declares. Several of her former students have already returned to Afghanistan and become teachers themselves.
Aqeela will not take all the credit for the Nansen Refugee Award. “The Award is not just mine. This is for every girl who received an education from this school, and whose lives have been changed with this school. My biggest reward is seeing a student learning to write and read, so for me every day is a reward day,”Aqeela says before moving to the back of the room where one of her students eagerly claims her attention.