Now, in what is being billed as a triumph over terrorism in this war-ravaged
land, most of the 1,300 students – some with permanent scars on their cheeks
and damaged vision – have returned to school full time.
Credit has been handed to headmaster Mahmood Qadri, 54,
who moved quickly after the attacks, cajoling and begging the frightened
families of the girls not to let the attackers win by giving up on their
education.
“We told them not to lose this chance for your children,” Mr. Qadri said.
And most listened. Classrooms at Mirwais School for Girls
on the outskirts of Kandahar city were brimming earlier this month as the girls
prepared for mid-year exams.
One girl told a U.S. reporter that her father urged her
to return to school at all costs, even if she is attacked again.
Mr. Qadri's efforts were as much to prove a point to the
attackers and would-be copycats: If the goal was to intimidate the girls into
staying home, the effort was doomed.
Within days of the assault, Mr. Qadri called a series of
meetings with parents and teachers.
Some of the parents were fed up with the threats and
attacks from insurgents.
“They were telling us … if we don't [stand up] to this
event, the insurgents will kill us and our children [in the next attack],” Mr.
Qadri said.
The headmaster also met with government officials, asking
for better security and buses for the girls, many of whom walk for kilometres
to and from school.
So far, those requests have not been met.
Many of the Mirwais students come from families whose
parents are illiterate. Despite government efforts to reverse the previous
Taliban regime's edict forbidding women and girls from attending school and
working outside the home, many people in this conservative province still frown
on educating girls.
According to government statistics, girls make up 35 per
cent of the 5.7 million students enrolled in school in Afghanistan. By
remaining open, the Mirwais school remains a symbol of progress and hope in
Kandahar.
At first, Mr. Qadri feared the parents would not let
their children return. The day after the attack, only a few girls appeared for
class, but each day their numbers have increased.
But for some students, the wounds from that morning are
still raw.
Susan Ibrahimi, 18, remembers walking to school with her
mother, also a teacher, when she spotted the men on motorcycles.
“They stopped in front of us,” Ms. Ibrahimi said. “They
took a thing hidden in some clothes, like a long pistol.”
Some of the men tried to lift the women's burkas. Using spray
guns, they splashed acid on the fabric, disintegrating the material. Burned and
temporarily blinded, the two women ran home.
Susan's sister, Mina, a teacher who had stayed at home
that day, said the two women were crying in pain and clutching their faces,
which were blotched and red from the attack. Ms. Ibrahimi was the more
seriously injured.
“They were in a very bad situation,” Mina said. “Susan's
face was hidden by her burka but some of the acid reached her face. Her face
was red. Some parts of her face were burnt.”
Ms. Ibrahimi was treated at a Kandahar hospital and
prescribed medication. When the weather turned colder, pieces of skin began to
fall off her face. She has since moved to Kabul for more treatment.
Mina said her sister is still too traumatized to resume
teaching in Kandahar.
The attack appeared to have the hallmarks of a Taliban
assault.
Schools, especially those catering to girls, have been
targets of insurgent attacks and threats.
Police later arrested eight men. One confessed on videotape,
saying he was paid by Pakistan's intelligence service. But President Hamid
Karzai later told a news conference that no foreign forces were behind the
attack.
Mina said she believed the assault was ordered from
Pakistan, by people “who don't want us to progress even in education. They want
us to be their slaves.”
In time, Mina said, her sister will be back at school.
“The main thing is knowledge, and knowledge is a beautiful thing for a person.”