“The day they informed me that I could no longer teach, life became meaningless”

Monesa
Teacher, Takhar

“My name is Monesa, and I am 25 years old. Even after two years, I am still in shock about the sudden fall of Kabul. On that day, I was busy administering exams to my students when a colleague rushed in and said, ‘Hurry, everyone go home; the Taliban have come, and Afghanistan has fallen’.  

In haste, I joined my colleagues in a school vehicle, traversing the roads of Takhar one after another. The streets were filled with the scent of fear, and the sounds of gunfire and people fleeing were overwhelming. 

When I first saw the Taliban in the northern district, I was momentarily in shock inside the vehicle. That day, I buried all my dreams. Life completely unraveled for me after that day, as I was constrained within the four walls of a house. 

I graduated from the English Literature Department of Kabul University and, until the Taliban took over, I was a teacher at a private school in Takhar, teaching English to girls in middle grade and high school. 

I couldn’t believe that everything was over but, beyond belief, everything was indeed over. I could no longer enter a classroom and continue my dream of teaching. The day they informed me that I could no longer teach, life became meaningless.

One day, after the Taliban took over, the school administration contacted me to return to work. I went to the school with a forced smile and returned home with tearful eyes. As I entered the school, a group of Taliban came, announcing the closure of schools for girls above the sixth grade.  

Since I taught in middle and high school, I lost my job and was reassigned to the administrative section of the school. But the Taliban didn’t allow me to work in the administrative section either, stating that I was a young girl and couldn’t work there. Instead, a man should be hired. 

I have no idea how I got back home that day. I cried openly on the street [a public display of pain that is frowned upon in my culture]. I wasn’t thinking that people could see me and [about how they would judge me as a bad person]. When I entered the house, I screamed and shouted that I no longer have permission to work for one reason: I am a woman. 

For over a year, I have been struggling with depression. I have visited psychologists several times, but now I am fighting to get better and trying not to give in.

I have tried to find solutions for my self-sufficiency and have learned to make some handicrafts, like bows and earrings by watching YouTube channels. I work in this field now and earn enough to cover my daily expenses. 

I urge Afghan women and girls not to give up and create opportunities for themselves. I also ask the international community to make serious efforts to support the continuation of education and work for women in Afghanistan.” 

Next story
“We want to be heard, to show the world that Afghan girls can build and endure”
A woman in a green veil sits, a toddler on her lap and an older daughter in the background.